Quantum Paradox
by Lightning Streak
Summary: Clockwork said he couldn't change the past or alter the future, but Danny refused to believe that time was so inflexible. He refused to believe he couldn't save Sam from her own death. Partially AU. Cover image by NeoRetro10K.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

_And thus begins a new story! _

_**Story Summary:** Clockwork said he couldn't change the past or alter the future, but Danny refused to believe that time was so inflexible. He refused to believe he couldn't save Sam from her own death. Partially AU._

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><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 1**

_Quantum: (adjective) Latin Origin Meaning: "the amount of/measure of."_

_Paradox: (noun) Meaning: A contradiction, but ultimate truth beneath the contradiction._

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><p>Samantha Manson thought it was a normal day.<p>

Heavy metal blasted from her headphones as she stared out the window of the railway car, watching red and green lights blur in the underground tunnels. A few overhead bulbs on the ceiling flickered.

She looked down to watch the repeating glow of a song name on her mp3, and when she glanced back up at the window, the sight of another body blurring into reality startled her. Green eyes stared back, and Danny Phantom smiled weakly as he flew alongside the railcar at sixty miles an hour. Then, he disappeared.

Sam pulled out one of her ear buds expectantly. Glancing around, she waited for him to appear again.

Up front, the doors to the connecting car opened, and a man in a black suit walked through. He'd looked as though he'd come from a funeral.

But she knew him anywhere, green eyes or blue eyes.

She stared at him in confusion as he quickly walked to her bench. "Danny, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your college for a job interview?"

For a moment, he could only stare. His blue eyes were wide, and he sharply inhaled. Sam felt her face grow hot under his piercing gaze.

Then, he swallowed hard and seemed to snap out of it.

He waved her off. "Don't worry about that," he told her. "In three minutes, it won't matter anyway."

She raised a brow. Something was off about Danny today.

"Look, I need you to listen up," he told her, sitting down opposite of her seat. Dead seriousness reflected in his eyes. As a Fenton, he was rarely ever serious.

Yep, something was _definitely_ off about him. She crossed her arms and raised a brow good-naturedly. "I'm listening."

"That light above you?" he said. "It's going to flicker three times with a power surge."

It did, and it cast shadows over his sad face.

"A baby wearing a red shirt will start crying in the back."

The rail car jolted over an uneven piece of track, and it frightened a poor infant, who began to wail. His mother cooed over him and rubbed his red-clad belly.

"The next song on your mp3 will be Metallica's 'King Nothing.'"

And as the beginning riff softly played from her ear bud she stared up at him with wide eyes. "My mp3's on shuffle. How did you know that?"

Danny shrugged, but it looked painful, as if his muscles were strained. "I've seen it happen before."

She felt incredibly unsettled. Maybe it wasn't such a normal day. "What is this?" she asked, half-joking. "Is foresight a new power, or something?"

He looked haggard. "I wish. God, I _wish_. But I'm not in power here. I'm just an observer."

The woman gave him a look, as if he'd taken a joke too far. She really hoped no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. "Seriously, Danny, why don't you-"

"-Don't you _remember_, Sam?" he asked desperately. "We've had this conversation before."

She laughed, but it was nervous. "Danny, are you alright? You're acting really strange, and it's kinda starting to scare me."

He gently pulled away the bud still in her ear, and it fell by the wayside. His touch felt electric. Then he cupped her face between his hands, memorizing every last detail of her worried expression. "No, I'm not alright. I have watched you die _four _times," he whispered, voice broken and quiet. He knew he was upsetting her. "And I'm still looking for the answer. But don't worry. I'll come back. I'll be back, even if you don't remember it. And I _will _save you."

"…_Wha_-?"

He pulled her into a kiss, and she gave a muffled cry, eyes wide.

Danny… was _kissing_ her?

For a moment, it felt good. She stopped thinking about it. She relaxed into his embrace, closed her eyes to feel the pulse of her heartbeat against his, the wild desire held back by mental chains underneath his muscles and fingers, straining to break free and kiss her senseless.

The others in the rail car coughed and glanced away.

Ten seconds.

He pulled away, blue eyes heavy. "I love you," he whispered brokenly. He stroked her face with trembling fingers. "God, I love you so much."

Light from the end of the tunnel-it was sunny outside-shined into the windows.

Her purple gaze searched his, utterly confused and horribly bright with _life_, beautiful life and love. "Danny-?"

And the world exploded into fire.

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><p>News anchor Tiffany Snow appeared unusually grave as the camera focused on her face. "Hello everyone, and welcome back to Channel 4 news. It's been two hours since the horrible tragedy that took place outside of Amity Park city limits. For those of you just tuning in, railway car T-89, eastbound to Chicago, exploded after a break in the fuel line. One-hundred and thirty-seven passengers were killed instantly, including the heiress of the Manson Family Fortune. Over fifty spectators were injured from shrapnel, although there have been no reports of any spectators in critical condition. Police are currently investigating whether the accident was an act of terrorism or a simple malfunction in the system. We'll take you now to ground zero, where Lance Thunder is currently on the scene. Lance?"<p>

The camera broke away, and a new panel zoomed onto Lance's face. The wind ruffled his blond locks, and he held his hand up to his ear. There was a moment delay. "Thanks, Tiffany." He glanced up into the camera. "I'm just outside the tunnel entrance, where rail car T-89 now rests in pieces."

Lance stepped away from the camera, and he motioned to the black debris, which had spilled out of the tunnel and marred the surrounding green grass and shining rails. Ambulance and police lights flashed in the background. "As you can see, damage from the fuel line break was extensive. Numerous medical teams and safety crews arrived on the scene in short order, including hospital volunteers and our very own Danny Phantom."

The mass chaos of teams from different hospitals, departments, and law enforcement created a hum of voices and shouts behind Lance's. If one squinted, one could see a ghost in a jumpsuit helping to lift heavy machinery into the tunnel. He was crying, even as he carried on.

"Unfortunately, our teams have confirmed the one-hundred and thirty-seven death count with no survivors. All families are currently being contacted, and the mayor is drawing up plans for a city-wide vigil tonight for all the passengers of T-89." He sighed. "This is Lance Thunder, still wishing he'd taken that job in Chicago."

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><p>Danny fell out of the portal, gasping for air, shaking on the stone floor. Tears streaked his face and burned his emerald eyes. He couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't think.<p>

He'd failed again.

The hem of a purple cloak floated into the corner of his vision. "Daniel," a calm and mournful voice echoed, "this is tiring you. Your actions are illogical and unhealthy. This was your fifth attempt, and nothing changed." A slight pause of hesitance. "You cannot change the past."

He stared up into the sad eyes of Clockwork. "Like hell I can't!" he bit out angrily. He brushed the tears from his eyes. "I'm gonna change it. I _will_ change it. Send me back."

Clockwork sighed, and he powered down his staff. "Not tonight. You've had enough."

Danny stood on shaky legs. "No!" he argued passionately. "I have to go back! I have to figure out why she and everyone else died! I have to save them!"

"You are obviously too emotionally strained to make logical decisions. Go home," Clockwork said firmly, "or I will ban you from entering this portal."

The Master of Time was incredibly good on his promises, and Danny paled at the threat. "You wouldn't," he whispered. "That would kill me."

"And if you continue on this self-destructive path, you _will_ die," Clockwork advised softly. "Daniel, you need to eat and sleep. You need to spend time with your family. Get out of the Ghost Zone."

The twenty-year old half-ghost swallowed back tears. "I can't leave her, Clockwork."

"You aren't leaving her," Clockwork said. He gestured to the portal, where a frozen image of Sam lounging against the railway seat swirled. "She'll be here."

But it wasn't enough for Danny, because he knew that in present time, Sam was buried in a vault at Amity Park Cemetery.

Even if he came back tomorrow, the Sam in Clockwork's portal to the past would die in a horrible explosion.

And he'd feel the excruciating pain of her death again.

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><p><em>Hey everybody! So this story is kind of an experiment for me; I've seen a couple drabble stories around, and I really liked the idea. This is definitely a concept story, and it's way different than anything I've ever written! It may or may not also have accurate information regarding scientific time travel. <em>_J This story is also partially inspired by the movie __**Source Code**__, as one can see the parallels, but the plot will severely deviate from said movie in many respects. As a drabble series, it will be periodically updated with chapters probably a bit smaller than this prologue, and the plot will be fully developed as time continues. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, or any aspect of Source Code. _

_So please review and tell me what you think! _

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	2. Chapter 2

**Quantum Paradox**

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Danny stepped foot back into Fenton Works Lab, and he was blinded by the complete darkness. A few gadgets and gizmos blinked green, and through them, he managed to make out the basic layout of the large room. Soft light from the upstairs kitchen glowed from the top of the stairs.<p>

The portal doors slammed together, and the genetic locks clicked back in place. It echoed, and he knew whoever was home could hear it.

_Was _anybody home?

He stilled, listening.

Footsteps hesitantly padded down the stairs. He instinctively turned himself invisible, until a head of red hair poked around the corner nervously. "H-hello? Anybody here?" a shaky voice echoed.

It took him a second to recognize her and register her voice against the drumming backdrop of _SamSamSam_ in his mind. It was Jazz, his older sister.

"It's just me," he replied hoarsely, materializing back onto the human plane.

"Danny?" Jazz called out, carrying a flashlight and the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick. Her wide eyes immediately honed on his glowing form, and her worry-worn face melted with relief. She rushed forward. "Danny!" The flashlight and bat dropped from her hands in the midst of her joy. The light crashed and spun on the ground, flickering. The bat clanged, but neither sibling cared.

"I'm home," he greeted tiredly, bracing himself for the red-haired bullet that would barrel him over.

She gathered him into a tight embrace, squeezing him as hard as she could. He sighed and hugged her back. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" she cried into his shoulder. "I just-I thought…You've been gone for two days!"

His eyes widened. "Two _days_?"

"Ever since the funeral," Jazz said hesitantly. She pulled away from him, and she gently wiped away the tears that trailed down his haggard face. "Mom and Dad were really worried that you'd done something drastic."

He scoffed in self-hatred. "I did." He sighed, and he suddenly looked much older than his twenty years. "I went to Clockwork."

"And?" Jazz prompted, teal eyes searching his in understanding and love.

"I failed. I tried to change the past, and I couldn't." He hid his face in her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. She was his rock in times of uncertainty. "I didn't bring her back, Jazz."

She rubbed his back, holding onto him tightly, afraid she'd lose him in his grief. She loved her baby brother. And she didn't really understand all he'd done at Clockwork's, but she didn't have to. "It's okay," she tried to comfort him. "It'll be okay, Danny."

He inhaled shakily, squeezing his green eyes shut. "She's still d-dead," he whispered. "It's not okay." But it hurt to think about it, so he tried to change the subject. He pulled away and looked around, his pale lips pulling into a frown. "Mom and Dad not home?"

"They're out at the crash site, scanning for ghost activity," Jazz replied gently. "So you're safe for right now." Her concerned eyes searched his. Danny only changed subjects if something was wrong. "Have you eaten lately? Or slept?"

"You know me," he said with a wry smile, carefully avoiding the question. Both of them knew the answer.

"Come on," she said, pulling on his arm. "I'll fix you something upstairs."

He didn't budge. "I'm really not hungry, Jazz."

She raised a brow. "You haven't eaten in two days, and you're not hungry?" She crossed her arms. "Now I know you're just being stubborn."

"I don't want to eat," he replied firmly, eyes sad.

She pursed her lips. "Well, then maybe you should-"

"-I don't want to sleep, either." Before Jazz could protest, Danny cut in. "Look, I… I can't stay here." His voice was broken and pleading. "I've gotta go see her again. You understand that, right? You know I won't do anything stupid."

She swallowed hard. "Then why did you come back here, if you're just gonna leave us again?"

He sighed. "Clockwork sent me here, but…"

Now that her brother was home, and _safe_, she didn't want to let go of him. She didn't want him to disappear again and wallow in grief. But she knew the psychological stages associated with grieving, and she knew Danny. Her eyes softened. "Just don't stay out too late. I'll be studying in my room if you need me. Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise." He pressed his lips together, unable to think of anything else to say. He finally settled for a grateful look. "Thanks, Jazz."

Then, he materialized into a ghostly wisp of energy, leaving his concerned sister alone in the cold lab.

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><p>Like a lost dog without its owner, he immediately honed in on Amity Park Cemetery, and he flew along the path to Sam's resting place. The sky was dark, and only the deepest of purples and blues still streaked the clouds.<p>

Danny could think only of how those were Sam's favorite colors.

As he floated over the lanes and lanes of tombstones and angel statues, his eyes locked on the limestone vault. His heart faltered at the sight, and he gently descended down. His gloved fingertips stretched to caress every cursive letter of Sam's name etched into the sealed doors. The strength slipped from his bones, and he fell to his knees, green eyes blurry with fresh tears.

"I miss you," he admitted shakily, wishing that Sam's pale hands would pull through reality and stone to interlock with his. But he knew that would never happen.

Swallowing hard, his shaking fingers pressed into the solid stone, and he forced his body intangible. The next thing he knew, he was floating within the heart of the vault.

The vault was roughly eight feet square, specifically designed for both Pamela and Jeremy Manson. They had personally planned the vault for themselves. They never guessed they'd bury their young and vibrant daughter in their own grave.

The air inside was already growing stale in the small area. And there, in the center of the limestone, was a bolted and beautiful casket. Its dark brown wood complimented the pure gold plating and black etchings of leaves.

Tears ran down his softening face as he floated down. He lightly ran his hand over the top. "You would have hated this," he said softly. "It's real mahogany and gold, Sam."

It was the closest he would ever get to her again.

"The good news is I convinced them to use black roses for the funeral," he tried to comfort her. His voice was shaky. "I thought you'd like that. No one wore or saw anything but black."

He stared at the casket, silent and in awe of the complete, oppressive darkness within the vault. His glow was the only light. Then, he scoffed lightly. "What am I thinking? You probably like this, don't you? You'll never have to see the light of day again. You can finally be a 'creature of the darkness.' And I'm probably interrupting your sleep."

Danny wiped the tears from his eyes, and he sniffed. It was becoming hard to breathe. "I've gotta go now, Sam. I wish I could stay longer, but I'm still alive. Sort of." With a laughing sigh, he pulled up and out, through limestone block, dirt, and grass to the cool night air.

He floated before the vault. "I'm gonna make sure this never happened," he promised her. "And I'm gonna bring you back." A wry smile lit his face. "Even if you probably do like the silence."

But Danny couldn't move to leave. He stared at the sealed doors with her name, and something within him hesitated.

So he sat down in the grass and leaned against the vault. "It's okay," he told Sam. "I'll be quiet, I promise."

And he stayed there, just like a loyal guard dog.

Later that night, Danny had nightmares that night of puzzle pieces, and Sam's body, and how the two had become so similar. He'd woken up on the grass and dirt, soaked in sweat and tears, gasping for his breath. He'd been so afraid to fall asleep again, but pure exhaustion claimed him soon enough.

He then had dreams of putting Sam back together again, to lovingly click her leg and arm back in place like the old puzzles he'd enjoyed so much as a child. He dreamed of seeing the jagged lines of her body smoothed back out into one complete picture of perfection and symmetry. He dreamed of smooth skin, and pale hands where the electric circuits of her mp3 hadn't been permanently seared into her palm.

And he resolved that in the morning, he would return to Clockwork. He'd push and pull his dreams into reality, even if it killed him to do it.

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><p><em>Wow, quickest update ever! This was a little more backgroundfiller chapter, so it wasn't too hard to write. Next chapter will go back to the main plot line. _

_Updated: August 23__rd__, 2011 at 5:30 P.M. _

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

**Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

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><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 3**

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><p>"We've all been looking for you, man." Footsteps crunched against leaves. "I knew I'd find you here."<p>

Broken, emerald eyes lifted to spot a pair of familiar cargo pants. "Go away, Tuck."

But his heart wasn't in it.

The twenty-one year old Tucker Foley stood before the vaulted grave of Samantha Manson, his hands in his pockets. It wasn't raining, but he wished it was. Off to the side, one Danny Phantom sat in the dirt and mud, resting his back against the side of the vault. He didn't care if his jumpsuit got dirty.

It seemed he didn't care about much of anything anymore.

Between the two friends, there was an understanding silence, a silent vigil for the missing third.

For old time's sake, Tucker placed a bag of Sam's favorite gummy bats alongside the numerous black roses. His movements were slow, as if his muscles couldn't believe he was placing gummy bats beside the sealed doors of a cemetery vault. But he was.

"Four minutes," Danny suddenly spoke up, voice hoarse from disuse. His emerald eyes were trained on the dirt before him. "It took four minutes for the ambulances to arrive. Four minutes and thirty seconds for the fire trucks. Seven minutes tops for police and reporters. I was there in forty-five _seconds_, Tuck. And you know what?" He laughed bitterly. "It didn't matter! It just didn't matter!"

"I kept hoping people were still alive, just trapped, you know?" he swallowed hard. "But I kept pulling out dead body after dead body. Some people were dying as I pulled them out. Some people," he added slowly, "were so unrecognizable that the EMD on board said they'd have to match up dental records. And Sam-" a sob hitched in his throat, "-she was…" He clenched his fists, and his throat tightened. He couldn't speak.

It'd been a closed casket ceremony, but no one had asked questions.

"The reports said everyone had died instantly," Tucker repeated, a bit uncertain.

Danny slammed his fist on the ground. "No!" he cried out. "The report was wrong! A few people were still hanging on after forty-five seconds when I got there. I had to watch them die, because I only know how to shoot things, turn 'em intangible…" He glanced up at Tucker with old eyes. "I had to watch them die, because I couldn't _save _them."

"How many people?" Tucker pressed.

Danny replied, "Maybe ten? They were the people sitting in the front, who probably hadn't felt the whole brunt of the explosion." He held his palm over his face. "The look on their burnt faces, as I held them, I couldn't do shit. People were dying in my arms, and I couldn't do _shit_."

Tucker sighed, and he sat in the dirt beside his old friend. "Hey man, don't beat yourself up about this. You did the best you could; you did more than most ever could."

"But it wasn't enough, Tuck." Danny turned away and sighed. "It wasn't enough." He leaned his head back, staring up at the cloudy morning sky. He added, heartbroken, "I can't get it out of my mind. I keep trying to see her alive, and I _can't_."

A new knowledge of human suffering had dulled the vibrant light of Danny's eyes. The image of a puzzle-piece Sam had burned into his retinas, and the shadow haunted him.

Tucker inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, all the lines of his body sagged. "I hacked into the Town Hall system and read all the reports," he admitted. "Word for word. And man, you did all you could. A few of the police reports said you'd picked up steel beams that took two cranes to haul away. They said you were a hero."

"I'm not a hero," Danny argued sullenly.

"Yes, you are," Tucker pressed, staring at Danny in concern. "If you weren't, then why does Amity Park love you?"

Danny clenched his fist. "What I do for Amity Park is in direct relation to my capabilities as a _ghost. _What I've done for Amity Park so far is protect them from _ghost_ threats. But this? I had the chance to use my powers to save lives in a way that I'd never done before, and I failed. I had the chance to use my powers for something _human_. But I didn't save anyone. And I was as helpless as everyone else."

"You helped recover over one-hundred people in under four hours," Tucker shot back. "Even with the best teams, it would have taken way longer without you. Families wouldn't even have bodies yet to bury, Dan."

Tucker neglected to tell him how a few reports had described a momentary lapse in sanity regarding their beloved hero after he pulled a woman's body from the rubble. According to them, Danny Phantom had faltered and refused to place the woman in a body bag. He'd cried. Everyone had guessed that he'd known her intimately. It'd taken four medics to convince him she was dead.

Danny inhaled sharply, and he looked away from his friend.

"M-maybe, if I'd just gotten there faster…" he trailed off quietly, imagining what it would have been like to see Sam's purple eyes, pained and unfocused, stare back at his in relief. He imagined himself carrying her, his own ghost temperature a relief from the heat that had scorched her…her heart beating slowly but steady against his own chest as her shaking fingertips dug into his jumpsuit…

He would've been with her every step of the way to recovery, telling her she was beautiful no matter what.

"_Danny_," Tucker stressed, stealing him away from his thoughts. "Seriously dude, you did all you could." He hesitated. "I think Sam would be proud of you for using your powers to help like you did."

The half-ghost's eyes were deeply pained. "But she died, Tuck. She was a casualty." He stood up. "And she wasn't supposed to be."

Before Tucker could speak, Danny added, "I'm going to Clockwork again." His sad expression hardened. "I'm gonna save her, Tuck. I'm gonna change the past."

"Do you really-?"

"-Tucker, I have to do this." His voice raised, almost in challenge.

"I know, but man, you can't just-!"

"-I can and I-"

"-But your family _needs_ you home right-!"

"-I don't care!" Danny rounded back in anger, seething in irritation that Tucker would turn on him. Tucker's eyes widened, and he back stepped. "So _don't_ try to stop me!" He glared harshly at his friend, clenching his fists. "I _am_ going back to Clockwork's, and I _will_ bring Sam back to life." He stared at his friend with a mix of emotions, and, as if he realized what he was doing, his glare softened. "Seriously, Tucker."

The shocked expression on Tucker's face slowly melted away. "…Fine, man." He stood up next to his friend. It was never worth arguing with Danny. "Just be careful, okay?"

"If everything goes as planned, this conversation will have never happened," Danny said firmly. A stroke of guilt flickered across his features, but it quickly disappeared in the face of his underlying desperation. "I'll see you on the other side, and I'll bring Sam with me." He turned away, and his body tensed with power.

Then, he was gone.

Tucker watched his friend spiral up into the clouds, and he sighed in defeat. "Jesus, man." He pulled his PDA out of his pocket, and he pushed a button.

"Tucker?" Jazz's concerned voice echoed over the speaker after two rings. "Did you find him at the cemetery?"

"Yeah," Tucker answered. "But he's gone now. Going back into the Ghost Zone. He was pretty adamant about it."

"I'm sure he was." Jazz paused. "Look, I'll try and stop him before he reaches the portal, if you'll-"

"-Just forget it, Jazz. Danny's got it in his mind that he can save her. And I'd _really_ hate to see what he'd do to someone in his way right now." Tucker ran a hand over his spiky, thick hair.

The way Danny had glared him down, just for that one second…it was almost a form of…hate?

It scared him, because he'd never seen Danny obsess over anything to the point of malice. It was like Danny's entire body was rewiring itself, his mind incapable of thinking about anything but saving Sam.

"…Do you think he can?" Jazz asked quietly. "Save Sam, I mean."

The boy sighed. "Man, I doubt it. Science says the time stream's too stable to be messed with." He turned back to the vault, his dark eyes saddening. "But I hope for his sake he really can change the past, 'cause I don't wanna know what he'll do if he _can't_."

The two fell in silence at the thought.

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><p><em>Hey, everybody! How ya'll doing today? So, just finished the third installment of the series. I was expecting to go straight back into Clockwork's tower here, but Tucker kinda wrote himself in, and I felt like he's so important to both Sam and Danny that it'd be a shame if he didn't make an appearance. It also gave me a little more time to flesh out the immediate aftermath of the explosion. <em>

_Chapter updated: September 2__nd__, 2011 at 4:15 P.M. _

_Chapter Inspiration: Linkin Park's Robot Boy_

Thank you **Kats02980416**, **Animation Nut**, and **Super-Berry **for reviewing last chappie!

**1. Plot? **

**2. Grammar? **

**3. Characters? **

**4. Questions/ Comments? **

_Thanks for reading,_

_Lightning Streak_

**Please Review! **


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey everybody!_

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><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 4**

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><p>Sometimes, the Master of Time knew too much, and the Observants knew too little. This had happened once or twice over their eons of work together. The Observants could usually predict, "Because country A and country B treasure the same resources, they will eventually battle for said resources."<p>

Thus, the Observants had predicted many a war, the rise of an empire, and the fall of a civilization into another.

But Clockwork would see dormant potential where the Observants did not see it. They saw the logic, the reasoning, the statistics, whereas Clockwork saw impulse and possibility.

Such were the circumstances regarding Clockwork's mysterious charge, Danny Phantom.

In the beginning, the Observants had placed bets that the Fenton Portal would kill Daniel Fenton, because that was the logical outcome of electrocution.

Now here they were, scrambling to understand why the Master of Time willingly opened both tower and time stream to accommodate the boy caught between worlds. They fought to understand why the Master of Time, so busy with his responsibilities to the Ghost Council, would _stop_ time simply to listen to the distraught boy.

They fought and fought it, but they had never been human, so they could never quite understand.

* * *

><p>"Clockwork," one of the Observants floated up to the old ghost, arms raised in exasperation. "We have sighted Danny Phantom en route to the Tower. Why do you indulge the boy to visit you? Do you not realize you have given him false hope?"<p>

"From an Observant's perspective," Clockwork replied simply, "it would appear that I _am_ being unnecessarily cruel."

"Cruel?" the Observant echoed seriously. "You and I both know the past cannot be changed in the way your charge demands it! Your portals are simply mirror _images_ of the past! They always have been! The true past cannot even be accessed! And thus you are tormenting Danny Phantom with a reoccurring shadow!"

"Danny Phantom torments himself," the Master of Time said. "He knows the odds. I have reminded him every single time. If he refuses to believe me, that is his own prerogative."

"…Surely you cannot think so callously of your own charge!" the Observant replied in shock.

"And for an Observant who generally hates my charge," Clockwork replied, "you seem uncharacteristically concerned."

The Observant swallowed hard, a strange feat for an eye. "It is not," he said carefully, "a concern for the boy so much as a concern for the outcome of his presence here. We fear you are creating a monster. We fear what the boy will do now. He is too powerful to rage so…so uncontrollably." The Observant waved a hand to one of the portals, where Danny Phantom now shot across the Ghost Zone in a desperate haze towards the lair. "You know the old story. Wave a treat in front of a dog long enough, and-"

"-And the dog will attack to get the treat, I know."

"And if the treat isn't actually there…?" The Observant said uncertainly. "What then? How will your charge react when he realizes he cannot save this Manson girl?"

"You do not understand reality as I do," Clockwork admonished. "Danny Phantom requires access to this particular portal for a specific reason. He believes it is to alter the past; I know it is for another purpose beyond that which you or he could ever comprehend."

"Oh, really?" the Observant demanded. "And what purpose is that? World destruction? The entire break down of the Ghost Council's policies?"

Clockwork raised a brow. "Not quite," he replied dryly.

His deadpan was not lost on the Observant. The eye ghost gave him a dirty look and tried again, "But something will happen. When he realizes the truth about the portals, will he attack _us_? I cannot predict his moves like you."

"No. He will not attack you or any other Observant."

The Observant caught a strange inflection in Clockwork's voice. "And you? Will he attack you?"

Clockwork's eyes grew distant, and he smiled sadly. "Not today." The crinkles at the edges of his eyes smoothed into youthful skin, and his grip about the scepter strengthened as his old muscles fleshed into firm cords. He sighed. "But in the future, he will."

* * *

><p><em>Whoa, baby. I'm only a month into my sophomore year at college, and I'm already swamped with work equivalent to my entire freshman year. This is gonna be crazy! <em>

_Good news is I have awesome reviewers who keep me inspired to work on some fan fiction on the side. Thank you __**Kats02980416**__, __**AnimationNut**__, __**Phantom Misfit**_**,**_** xsugarxblossomx**__, __**Super-Berry**__, __**Dev Li**__, and __**opiumsong**__! You are all amazing! _

_So, I am in __**love**__ with Clockwork. He's my favorite supporting character in the entire fandom. I couldn't resist doing a chapter that focused on him and the Observants. I hope to further expound on the theory behind Clockwork's time portals as well as the fun, little prediction at the end of the drabble. Looks like this story's getting more involved than I thought it would be! I'll return back to Danny's point of view for the next chappie, and hopefully get back into some time stream jumping with Sam! Unless you guys have any better ideas, of course. :P_

_Chapter updated: September 26, 2011 6:15 P.M. _

_Chapter inspiration: Transformers soundtrack. Yeah!_

**1. Plot? **

**2. Grammar? **

**3. Characters? **

**4. Questions/ Comments? **

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_

**Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey, everyone! Sorry about the late update!_

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>By the time Danny arrived at Clockwork's Tower, he was exhausted and shaking. He still had not eaten. Whatever sleep he'd managed to gain beside Sam's grave was expended on his flight through the endless realms of the Ghost Zone.<p>

His face was pale, his eyes sunken and dull. The glow around his body was dim. "Clockwork?" he called out into the darkness, his voice rough with exhaustion. Grandfather clocks lazily ticked in the background. "Hey, you there?"

His nose twitched out of habit, catching the scent of good food. He squinted his eyes and saw a small table with a plate of bacon and eggs in the center of the abandoned lair. A small glass of orange juice finished the picturesque picnic in the center of the time tower.

Danny's eyebrows furrowed.

"I knew you wouldn't obey my advice," Clockwork's disembodied voice made him jump. Wheeling around, Danny saw the older ghost materialize into the room, his arms crossed. "Did I not tell you to go home, Daniel?"

Not even listening, Danny's tired eyes lifted to Clockwork's. "Are these real eggs? Like, _humans _can eat this?"

The Master of Time stared through Danny, as if assessing him. "They are as real as you or I." He waved his hand for him to sit. "And I guarantee they are for human consumption."

Danny gave Clockwork a strange stare, and Clockwork raised his brow in return. "What?" the Master of Time asked. "As my charge, am I not partially responsible for your well-being?"

"Yeah," the boy said slowly, "but…" His wide eyes, and he suddenly realized he was absolutely starving. "I just…"

"You are on the verge of collapse, Daniel," the elder ghost explained. "Had I not intervened for your health, you would have inevitably collapsed before you ever entered the portal, and the last thing I need is for my lair to become an infirmary." He pointed again. "Now eat."

"…You're not going to let me into the portal until I eat, huh?" Danny sighed.

"Logical deduction."

"What are you, my mom?"

Clockwork wanted to roll his eyes. "No."

The boy floated over to the seat, hesitant and uncertain. "Do I have to eat this?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then you will not enter the portal."

Feeling cornered, Danny shot Clockwork a suffering gaze. He sat down in the high-backed seat and gingerly began eating, picking at the eggs with a fork, testing to see how edible they really were. Then his stomach growled, and he dived into the food without another thought.

His human half was starved; his ghost half was wavering without a stable influx of energy.

The Master of Time silently watched his charge eat, noting the shake in Danny's hands. "If you continue this, Daniel, you will not survive through college."

A strange, sad smile lifted the boy's lips. "That's the idea."

The thought was disturbing at best.

But despite his near-suicidal comment, Danny reveled in the familiar feeling of good cooking and a full stomach. "Where are all the Observants?" he said, voice muffled by the food in his mouth. He swallowed. "Usually, this place is crawling with them."

Clockwork leaned back into his favorite chair, a high-backed, plush thone. "I gave them orders to keep away from the tower."

"They still don't like me, do they."

"…Not quite," Clockwork stated. "Your recent backslide towards instability has shaken what little faith they had in you."

"Yeah, well." Danny tried to think of a comeback but realized he didn't have a good one. "What did they want me to do? Sit around and do nothing?"

"It's called acceptance of destiny," Clockwork corrected. "You do not understand this concept. At all."

The tired boy gave him a dark look. "_And you _want me to accept this?"

"I'm afraid you have no choice but to accept reality."

"We're sitting in the headquarters to every time portal, and you tell me to accept my destiny?" Danny scoffed. "No way, Clockwork. I've gotta a chance to change this."

"I would attempt to explain the reasons why you shouldn't try, but I already know you won't listen." He sighed.

"And I know you're wrong," Danny said adamantly, his emerald eyes tired. "It'll change. I'll figure out what caused it, and I'll change the past."

Clockwork felt old. "You _can't _change the past, Daniel. How many times must I tell you?"

"I don't believe you," he said quietly, eyes hard. "I can't, Clockwork." He bit his lip to combat the wave of tears that blurred his vision. "I've changed the past before, and I'll change it again."

"And when did you accomplish altering the time stream?"

Danny glanced up in disbelief, blinking with a shock that allowed his tears to trail down his face. "Don't you already know? Remember the ecto-acne? When Vlad's ecto-acne reappeared, and he infected Sam and Tucker? You sent me back in time, and I altered the future because of it!"

Clockwork replied, "Danny, I had to teach you a lesson that it's better to solve problems in the present than to dwell on the past. That future you saw was a simulation. It never really existed outside out of this tower, just as the past I sent you to doesn't exist. It was a _dream_, a mirror reflection of the past. Like a movie reel. If I were to allow you to truly enter the time stream, catastrophic results would occur."

Danny swallowed hard. "But…b-but I changed the…I altered the events in that portal. I changed the dream."

"I once said that watching over time is like watching a parade. That doesn't mean that I am capable of turning the parade around, or switching floats, or stopping it entirely. Despite how much it pains me, I am as much a servant of Fate as any other. I can only influence the time stream if I am destined to influence it." Clockwork transformed into an old man, his proud shoulders bowing under the weight of his station and the sad eyes of his desperate charge. "You were meant to learn a valuable lesson when your alternate self was created. Pathways opened for the parade to allow you learn, as you were destined to. But Samantha Manson was meant to die on September 21st. There was no other path in the parade."

Danny stared at him, his hard gaze melting into brokenness. He looked down to hide the tears blurring his eyes. For a long time, he said nothing, wiping his face on his sleeve. Then, he admitted, "Clockwork, Sam doesn't deserve this. She deserves to live more than anyone. I don't _want _her to die."

"Does anyone deserve the hand Fate deals?" Clockwork raised old eyes to Daniel. "Danny, you are not the first person to feel the weight of an uncaring reality. But just as you did in the fights with your alternate self, so you will learn a valuable lesson here. I cannot deny you that lesson."

"A lesson of what?" Danny asked, voice hard and sarcastic. "Why I shouldn't love, fight for something, act when I can?" Danny stood up. "Just let me into the portal, and I'll prove you wrong. Screw destiny. Screw Fate. Come on, Clockwork." The boy paused. "Please."

The Master of Time said, "Your _motivations_ for observing the portal must change before you strain yourself beyond that which you can handle. But… I promised you entry, and I do not break promises. Go and attempt to prove me wrong yet again."

Danny clenched his fists, his bloodless face. "I _will_ prove you wrong, Clockwork. There's just some angle I haven't tried yet, some move I haven't pulled. That's what the lesson is, right? That I'm just not looking in the right places? That I'm missing the real answer somewhere?"

Clockwork's gaze became unreadable. "If you are so adamant to believe so, then there is nothing I can say." He raised his scepter, pressing a button on its small panel.

One of the portals hummed to life and glowed with Clockwork's command. It swirled back time to September 21st and focused on one Samantha Manson riding rail car T-89. "You will have the same time allotment as before, Daniel. I would suggest that you do not waste a second."

But Danny didn't move. For a minute, he simply stared at Sam's picture, at the sight of her living, breathing, listening to her mp3 and boredly looking out the window. Then, he watched as her purple eyes swiveled from the window to look at her surroundings from the same angle the portal viewed her.

Her eyes froze there.

It was as if, for a moment, Sam could gaze beyond her reality, beyond the portal, and stare straight at Danny's heartbroken face to sympathize, _"I __**know**__." _But then she glanced down at her mp3, enraptured by the song blasting in her ears and the hype of the metal rhythm.

"Are you going to watch her die here, or are you going to witness it firsthand?" Clockwork's voice cut into his thoughts.

Danny turned back, a dark look in his eyes. "She's not gonna die under my watch this time, Clockwork."

He backed up and then shot into the portal, little more than a shadow of light.

* * *

><p>The first time he had went in, the journey through time confused and disoriented him. He felt like he was literally stepping into a dream: like a hazy, tunneling cradle of labyrinth clock-doors covered in lightning. It left him stunned when the force of the portal pushed him through the thundering storm into a cold reality of oil, cement, and underground subway tracks.<p>

He had wasted so much time before, trying to readjust to the time jump.

But now, when the portal left him standing on Amity Park's underground rail tracks, he kept a steady balance. The portal sparked and disappeared into nothing behind him, but he did not worry about himself or about losing his way back to Clockwork's Tower.

He knew the time stream would kick him out-_the dream would end_-when the rail car exploded.

His green eyes gazed at the familiar surroundings, his ears catching the sound of rumbling engines. T-89 was ahead of him, disappearing into the dark distance as it always had. The wind of its passing still blasted through the dilapidated underground, ruffling Danny's white hair.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the acrid air, reining in his turbulent thoughts.

Ten minutes and counting until T-89 exploded.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Hey again! Sorry about the wait for this update, but I tried to make it longer for you. My semester was killer, and I've spent a lot of my time during this Christmas break training for a new job. Way to ring in the new year! :P _

_Thanks to _**AnimationNut**, **Super-Berry**, **viva011**, **Dev Li**, _and _**Pseudonym P **_for reviewing! I appreciate it so much! :) _

_But yeah, I hope you enjoyed this (somewhat filler) chapter. I really wanted to explore Clockwork and Danny's relationship with each other, how Clockwork's almost, but not quite, a parent, and how Danny's almost, but not quite, the 'prodigal' son in need of guidance. I also felt I needed to address a few inconsistencies between the series' events and this story as to how one changes the past. The next couple of chapters will strictly take place inside the time stream! _

_Chapter update: Sunday, January 1__st__, 2012 at 2:45 P.M. _

_Chapter inspiration: Puscifer's "Queen B." I swear that Dark Dan's voice sounds exactly like the lead singer's. You gotta hear this one. :)_

_Tell me what you think!_

**1. Plot? **

**2. Grammar/flow/ syntax? **

**3. Characters? **

**4. Questions/ Comments? **

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p>The worst thing about entering the portal was Sam's lack of memory. She looked at him with the same expression, the same surprised, trusting, innocent look every time. Her gaze still held that superficial disdain for sunshine and life. She didn't know she was going to die.<p>

But ignorance was bliss, and Danny didn't want to upset her. Even if she was just a shadow of the past.

His heart was pounding, shattering his ear drums with a rhythm worthy of war; worthy of anxiety medication.

"Sam?" Danny said, sitting opposite of her. Her name slipped from his lips in the same way a lone traveler would beg for water in the desert, and he winced. He hoped she didn't notice. He hid the shake in his hands, tried not to scare her.

"Hey," she replied, an easy-going smile lifting her frowning lips. Her eyes softened in ways he'd never noticed before. She pulled out her ear buds. "What's up?"

Eight minutes.

"I, uh, made it through my interview," he said, smiling weakly. How long had it been since that interview? What'd he even interviewed for?

Playing the part of Danny Fenton was suddenly more difficult. He was no longer the Danny Fenton she knew.

Her interest piqued. "Oh, yeah? How'd that go?"

He shrugged.

"Does that mean 'okay?'" Sam suggested. "Less than okay? Awesome with a huge paycheck every two weeks?"

"It went," Danny said, words leaving him in a deficit of thought. "It just…went."

"…Oh." Sam's lips (purple, like the dyes from Canaan, like Marie Antoinette's wardrobe), frowned. She crossed her arms, eyeing him like she would an unruly child. "That's incredibly descriptive."

Their eyes met.

He looked down, unable to breathe. "I'm s-sorry," he said. He tried to look up at her, but his mind's eye saw a shadow of charred flesh darken her pale skin. He quickly glanced away again. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just-" He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the palms of his hands. _Make it go away!_

.

"_Holy__-" the words choked in his dry throat as he caught the sight of her, her, __**her**__-_

_._

Her eyes narrowed in concern. "Danny, seriously, what's wrong?" She leaned over, closing the gap between them, and set her hand on his shoulder. "Did it really go that bad?"

"No," he mumbled, then ran his hands down his face. "God, Sam. No, it's not the interview at all."

Her voice smoothed out. "Then _tell me _what's wrong."

Her touch on his shoulder felt like 'calm,' everything that the word could mean and more, as her fingers moved to the base of his neck and up to brush back some of his dark hair from his eyes.

He looked up at her, eyes brimming. "I can't, Sam."

"Why not?"

Danny stared at her, watched her as time sped her by, keeping her eyes bright, unknowing and all-knowing at once.

_Keep her in the dark, Fenton. Remember what happened when the people overheard that one time? _

"Let's just get out of here," Danny said suddenly, blue eyes brimming. "Come on, Sam."

Her eyes darkened. "Danny, you're avoiding my question."

She moved to grab his hand, but he grabbed hers first. "It's nothing, Sam." Her hands were cold in his. He squeezed her hand, to make it real, life-like, blood pumping through. "I just wanna go somewhere. I want you to come with me."

She raised an unbelieving eyebrow. "With you? Where?"

"I dunno. Somewhere. Off this train. Somewhere _really_ off this train," Danny suggested quickly.

Five minutes.

"…You're not getting claustrophobic on me, are you?"

The lights flickered.

"Danny?"

"Shit," Danny breathed, eyes wide. He turned to Sam. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. Electricity. God, it nearly stopped him. He could turn around and revel in her touch: touching her, seeing her-

She snatched her hand back and stopped walking. "Danny, I can't go." Her voice was hard. "I'm sorry."

A baby wearing red began to wail in the back of the rail car.

"Why not?" His voice rifted in a mix of frustration and laughter.

"Because I have to be at the office at 3:30," she said firmly. "Dad left some papers back at the house, and he needs me to bring them before his meeting."

"You mean one of your butlers couldn't get it?"

Sam shrugged. "I gave Jim the day off. Told him he'd done enough."

His mind raced. "I'll fly you there. It'll be faster."

She gave him a weird look. "Well, I mean…okay?"

Three minutes.

He grabbed her hand again and pulled her along. "Let's go, then. We're running out of time."

Passengers and mile markers raced by in blurs as Danny dragged Sam along, attracting the curious gazes of those paying attention. The doors opened and closed behind them as they stopped in between the passenger cars, where the outside air leaked through the flexible joints of the encased connector threshold.

Transforming into Phantom, a sense of triumph overwhelmed him. Sam Manson, _alive_, in his arms. He had time.

Just enough time.

"Geez, you are so off today," Sam said, eyeing him in concern. "You gonna be okay to fly, or do you need a minute?" She looked down at her backpack and noticed that her mp3 was still on. Metallica's 'King Nothing' softly blared from the ear buds. "Cause you know, I've got a minute." She turned off the mp3 and stuffed it in the backpack pocket.

"You don't have a minute, Sam."

He grabbed her hand, feeling the familiar wave of intangibility overwhelm his body. He inhaled deeply, waiting for his power to flow through his arm and sink over Sam.

But his intangibility shorted out the moment it reached her fingers. His heart stopped. "Wha-?" He tried it again, only to meet the same results. "I…I don't understand."

Sam pulled away.

"Okay, Danny, what's wrong? Really?" She quickly set down her backpack and turned to him, no nonsense. She gently pressed the back of her palm against his forehead. "Are you sick? Powers acting up?"

"I can't take you away from here," he realized.

"What?"

"I…can't save you." He swallowed hard. "It's gonna happen again."

Forty-five seconds.

"Danny, you're not making any sens-"

He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her to him, his fingers digging into her sides, his face hiding in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, his voice ragged. "God, I'm so sorry."

She froze at the close contact, but the way Danny's shoulders and hands trembled spoke something like, _don't let go_. Like, _I need you now._

Something was very, very wrong. Way beyond an interview. The shaky inhale of his hot breath let her know her best friend was border lining on a breakdown.

"Look, it's okay, Danny," she said automatically, ever his steady rock. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. It'll be okay. We'll be okay."

A shudder from within made him grab her tighter until no space could breathe between them.

"No, Sam," he whispered, lips nearly touching the smooth skin of her neck as he burrowed his face into the collar of her shirt. "We won't."

The dread of what was to come made his heart pound into a frenzy of _ten nine eight seven six five…_

He could feel her heartbeat against his, one last time.

T-89 shook and blasted into fire. He saw Sam's hair fly back in a tangled whirl and felt her body jerk backwards as the sunlight of the outside combined with the explosion.

Everything faded away.

* * *

><p>He tumbled out of the portal in blasting wisps of green and shades of fire that licked around him, through him, without heat.<p>

Then the portal closed and reset, as if nothing had happened.

For some time, the boy lied on the cold stone, emerald eyes wide and unfeeling. Clockwork stood off to the side, holding his scepter. He looked as though he wished to say something, but then he sighed and turned away.

The grandfather clocks ticked in the background, and precious seconds fell away into the forever movie reel of the portals.

.

"_It'll be okay. We'll be okay." _

.

Slowly, very slowly, the boy dragged himself up on his hands and knees. He stared at the floor, unable to look up at his guardian. "So my powers don't work on her," he said softly.

The first times he had entered the portal, he'd attempted to alter time without his powers. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him, should they live and then reveal his secret.

Like it ever mattered.

The irony of the thought made a bitter laugh work its way up his dry throat. Like he cared if anyone found out about his secret now. He'd willingly walk to the Guys in White and turn himself in for a chance to see Sam _live_, really live.

"I …am," Clockwork said slowly, "sorry, Daniel. But as your and your powers were not present in the true timeline, they do not affect the portal."

"I know," Danny whispered. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind. "I should've known." Self-hatred overwhelmed him. "I'm so stupid."

Clockwork's sad, red eyes flickered to him. Then he said, "Don't worry about the clock."

The words barely registered in Danny's mind as it fluttered and shook with images of Sam Manson, alive in the portal.

The frustration mounted. Six times. He'd failed six times.

He'd watched her die six times.

His green eyes flickered with righteous anger, watery with tears. Without thinking, his growled and slammed his fist into the stone wall beside him, which cracked under the force. One of the smaller clocks on the wall shook off its nail and crashed to the floor in pieces. Gears flew everywhere.

For a moment, the release of pent-up anger felt good. It felt good to destroy something, to send his pain somewhere other than his own heart. His strong knuckles could handle more than stone. But then cold water stormed down his spine.

Real time. A broken clock and cracked wall.

Danny stared down at the fallen clock, then back up at Clockwork, haunted. He back stepped. "God," he breathed, unable to clear his mind. "I didn't…I didn't mean to do that." The destructive spirit within him reared its head as he fought to control it, and his face flushed in shame and pain.

"I know, Daniel." Clockwork turned around to face him, old eyes wise. "I know."

* * *

><p><em>Hey, everyone! So we finally made it back into the portal with Sam. Hope this update didn't disappoint. I tried to make it angst enough without being over the top-I love writing DannySam. I also integrated a few new syntactical things for me, which was fun. Way for bending grammar rules! _

_Ooh, by the way, I've posted a (hopefully) SOPA/PIPA-proof disclaimer in my profile. Feel free to copy and paste it into your fics! I didn't copy it here, because the disclaimer's rather long. But I'll be using it for my more involved fics, like Chained. Really don't want that deleted. Got too much time in it. Either way, I don't own Danny Phantom, and I don't know why anyone would care that I don't own it. _

_Chapter update: Sunday, January 30__th__, 2012 at 11:30 PM. (This is my I-hope-you-survive-this-week gift to you!)_

_Chapter inspiration: The Piano Guys feat. Axel Boye-Paradise (Coldplay Cover) _

_Thanks to **DPraven, 1valleygirl4, A mid Summer's (or early Fall's) dream, MsFrizzle, Pseudonym P**, and **Dev Li **for reviewing the last chappie and/or previous ones! :) _

_Tell me whatcha think about this update, and if you have any ideas! _

**1. Plot? **

**2. Grammar/flow/ syntax? **

**3. Characters? **

**4. Questions/ Comments? **

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 7**

* * *

><p>"Jack," Maddie called out as she tinkered over the device, "I'm getting a strong reading of Phantom's signature. He was definitely here."<p>

"Too bad he didn't leave anything else behind," the hunter rubbed his hands together. "We coulda used it to track him down and destroy him for good."

Maddie chose not to reply, ignoring her husband's well-meaning but seemingly misplaced hatred. She stared at the debris-filled area, trying to imagine the bodies and the ambulances and one Danny Phantom in the midst. "Something doesn't add up about this," she murmured. She turned to her husband. "Jack, why did Phantom help here of all places?"

He shrugged, his thick fingers wrapping wire around a post. "He's trying to trick us? Make us think he's good and then steal all our fudge?"

Maddie recalled the reports from television, which showed the resident ghost lifting heavy machinery and pulling away debris for the medical teams. "But that's just the thing," she pressed, purple eyes soft. "This wasn't a ghost-related incident. Even if Phantom was trying to boost his reputation, it had nothing to do with the ghost invasions."

The man gave her a strange look. "Whatcha saying, Mads?"

"He chose to help humans for something _human_." Her hands slipped. "That's not in his character…is it?"

"Ghosts don't have characters," Jack replied simply, "remember?"

Maddie hummed. "They don't have characters beyond their basic instincts left over from life, Jack. _That's_ the going theory."

He shrugged, taking his wife's word for it. Then he stared at the twisted metal of the train and back at his device. "Mads, I'm not getting any readings at all. Just the residual from the Phantom kid." He frowned. "Looks like we won't be seeing any other ghosts after all."

"Well, we figured the fire might have burnt out any remnants of post-human consciousness from the passengers," Maddie replied. But her eyes were still distracted.

She rubbed her chin. "And all those interviews with the medical directors and volunteers… said something about a girl…"

"So what about the interviews?" Jack harrumphed. "We got a ghost to track down!"

Maddie wasn't listening.

"Jack…I think he lost someone on this train." A dozen thoughts flew through her mind. "Maybe it was someone who knew Phantom in life. That _would_ be in his character, even as a ghost with evil tendencies. It would explain everything he did here today."

.

"_Mrs. Fenton, this is the third time I've seen __**my**__ Sammykins with that Phantom up on our rooftop, and I know we're not on the best of terms, but you must understand my concern… I want you to stop this. You're the only competent ghost hunter around!" _

.

Maddie's eyes widened in deep concern and sorrow. "This means Phantom has a lot more explaining to do than I first thought."

* * *

><p>In the Ghost Zone, Danny moped about Clockwork's tower, sending fearful glances at the frozen portal. He was afraid of it. He was afraid of failing again.<p>

He wasn't sure if he could handle Sam dying a seventh time, but he also wasn't sure if he could stay away.

Clockwork stood at his workbench, scepter and heavy gloves laid aside. Red eyes narrowed, he focused on repairing the old clock Danny had broken, refitting the gears and retying wires with a meticulous attention to detail.

For some time, it was silent between the two. Danny still felt caught between shame and sorrow, and Clockwork had decided not to push the boy any further. The numerous clocks ticked away minute after minute.

Then the boy inhaled shakily, and he forced himself to stare at the portal, at Sam's frozen image. He steeled his heart. "I think I'm gonna go back in."

Clockwork barely glanced his way. "Will you attempt to prove me wrong again?"

Danny swallowed. "No. Maybe." His eyes fell to the ground. "I don't know." He looked back up. "I just wanna…I _need_ to talk to her."

Clockwork paused on his work, and he turned to Danny. "You recognize the futility of changing the past, then?"

Danny winced. "Maybe. Hasn't worked out the last six times."

Clockwork's red eyes softened. "So you wish to speak to Sam simply to be in her presence."

The boy nodded silently.

"And what will you do afterwards?"

Danny licked his lips, thinking hard. "I dunno. I don't know anything right now."

Clockwork watched the boy. "Although I approve of these motivations over your attempts to change the past, you should know that continued interaction with this portal will make it more and more difficult for you to find closure."

He breathed deeply, albeit shakily. "I know. I know, but…"

"…May I make a suggestion, Daniel?"

He nodded. "I'm listening."

"Make this your last time." Clockwork's red eyes were weighted with wisdom. "Tell her goodbye, and give yourself _closure_. If you don't, I fear the repercussions will be great."

Danny's eyes saddened. "But…how? How do I say goodbye to someone that I don't wanna say that to?"

Clockwork turned away. "I'm afraid I'm not the one to ask."

* * *

><p>Once in the portal, Danny asked Sam directly, "If you knew you were going to die today, what would you do?"<p>

She pulled out both of her ear buds this time, and her purple eyes locked on him in curiosity. "Deep topic for just coming to say hi," she raised a brow. "Are you having some sort of crisis again? Job interview getting to you?"

He swallowed hard as he sat opposite of her. "Yeah. That's it."

Her lips twitched upwards, and so she humored him. "Hmm," she began. "I'd do a lot of things." She tilted her head. "How much time do I have?"

"Five minutes," Danny said. "Pretend this whole railway is going to crash, and we're both going to die. What would you do?"

She tried to hide her ever-rising blush, but Danny saw right through her. "I, uh," she said uncertainly, "well…" She blew her bangs out of her eyes and hid an embarrassed laugh. "This is so not how I imagined I'd tell you, but…"

"I'd say you're my best friend," she said finally. His heart dropped. "And then I'd say how much I wish you'd have been…something more." Fear of rejection tore into her usually solid gaze. "You know?"

That gaze of hers, just _her_, was all it took.

"I do know," he said, brushing away the bangs that had fallen back into Sam's eyes. He smiled a watery smile. "God, I know."

And when he kissed her, she froze in surprise. Then she kissed him back with the full force of ten years' silence.

Someone whistled from the back.

But he didn't care. Damn the onlookers, he didn't care. He placed his hand against the back of her neck, guiding her closer to him, feeling her smooth skin and silky hair with his fingers. Disbelief and joy swept through him as they deepened their kiss.

Sweet. She tasted sweet and innocent, and everything within him flared in love at her modest movements against him. Her shaking fingertips brushed against the sides of his face, and he grabbed one of her hands and held it there.

For a second, nothing except them mattered.

Then he pulled back, stared her in the eyes, and said breathlessly, "I love you, Sam Manson." He swallowed hard, tracing her bruised lips. "I don't…I can't even tell you how much."

She blushed, and her purple eyes softened, bright. "I love you too." A tentative smile, one more brilliant than the sun, the stars, the entire universe combined, lit up her face. "You've no idea how long I've waited to hear that."

He sealed his heart with another kiss, gathering her in his arms. "And you don't know," he said, setting his forehead against hers, their heaving breaths mixing together, "how long I've waited to ask."

Then the lights flickered, and Danny inhaled sharply, breaking away from Sam. _Right_. This wasn't real.

It wasn't real, it wasn't real, and he still had to say goodbye.

Sam stared at him in confusion. "Something wrong?"

Danny's blue eyes widened, and he turned back to her. He tried to smile, but it came out too strained and desperate. He stroked her hair. "Nothing…I just…I want you to know…you're beautiful, inside and out." He stroked her face with his knuckles. "You always will be. No matter what."

A baby's wails raised from the back of the railcar.

"Even if I'm eighty with wrinkles?" she raised a brow, though it was in good fun.

He closed his eyes, knowing she would never reach that age. "Even then," he said, voice shaky.

"Even if the railcar really exploded today, like you said?"

He winced, images of her broken, burned body resurfacing. She'd been ugly then, so ugly it'd hurt to look at her. But that wasn't her. Sam's dead body wasn't Sam. "Yes, Sam. Even then."

"Well, that's not really fair to you," she said jokingly. "If we're going to continue with the 'last minute alive' thing, why don't you join me on the adventure into the afterlife?"

His blue eyes bored into hers, and with utmost honesty, he said, "I'd love to."

A mischievous, unmistakable glint sparkled in her eyes, a remnant of her days as a wayward goth. "Then kiss me like we're gonna die, Fenton."

He needed no other invitation.

Her mp3 fell off the seat onto the floor, but neither of them heard "King Nothing" play as they latched onto each other for all they were worth. Some of the nearby passengers grumbled something about public indecency, and others made bets for how long the two lovers would go at it. One of them broke out a camera and took a picture of the way Danny cradled Sam close to him as his lips moved against hers in a perfect synchronization-like puzzle pieces.

"Oh, man," the passenger said, reviewing the picture. "This is so going on the internet."

"Nah, man," another said, "send it in somewhere; get money for this stuff!"

But when Danny pulled away for the last time, his eyes were haunted. "I don't want to say goodbye just yet, Sam. Not this time."

She echoed dumbly, "…Goodbye?" She gave him a strange look and then tried to wave away his concern. "Danny, I wasn't running _away_; I just had an errand to run for my dad. Is that what made you come out here?" Before he could say anything, Sam grabbed his hand and whispered to him, almost with otherworldly knowledge, "Look, I will _always_ be with you. You don't need to say goodbye._ Ever_. Okay?"

"You promise?" he whispered.

"I pro-"

T-89 exploded. Sam was engulfed in a raging torrent of fire, neck snapped back by the blast, eyes misting over in death.

But it was cold for him. Danny was breathless, his hands gripped to hold Sam, even as the portal began to shut down.

He could still taste her on his lips. He could still smell her lavender scent on his clothes.

The fire swam over him harmlessly as the scene blitzed away into darkness, and the time stream gently cradled him back to Clockwork's Tower, as if to say, _I'm sorry I have to do this_.

Then the grief hit him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I found out that a friend of the family, named David, suffered a massive heart attack last night. I went to visit him in the hospital today, and he was in an induced coma. His prognosis was not good. I watched the monitors by his bedside; his stats were horrible. God, I had forgotten how it really feels to wish time could turn back. I just feel like I'm dreaming right now. I hope he doesn't die. I really hope he doesn't die. _

_I had more planned for this chapter, but it was really rushed, and I didn't think I could get it done tonight. So I just uploaded what I had. I plan to update again hopefully soon. I'm sorry if this chapter feels rushed too. _

_Thanks to _**ShadowDragon357**, **AnimationNut**, **Dev Li**, **Laniii**, **Super-Berry**, **MsFrizzle**, _and _**Socratic Irony **_for reviewing last chapter. You're awesome. _

_Tell me whatcha think about this update, and if you have any ideas._

**1. Plot? **

**2. Grammar/flow/ syntax? **

**3. Characters? **

**4. Questions/ Comments/Ideas? **

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 8**

* * *

><p>After Daniel's seventh failed attempt to change the past, the portal rested.<p>

Daniel, however, did not.

As the restless hours blurred, he tried to imagine what it would be like if Sam had lived past those moments of desperate searching and hoarse calls-if he'd found her alive.

Realistically, he imagined she would have been life-lined to Amity General Hospital, then put into emergency surgery in the trauma center. She would have still lost her left leg to the knee-the fire had cauterized the wound, and the leg he'd found later was too mangled to be sewn back on. Danny also realized Sam still would have lost her left arm too-the bone been shattered, barely hanging off of her.

Providing she survived the surgery to stabilize her heart and the surgery to remove the shrapnel from her bleeding internal organs and then the surgery to graft skin back onto the various parts of her body, she'd be put in an induced coma. The doctors would look at her paperwork and call up her parents, probably say her chances of living through the night were slim.

They'd wheel her into a room in the Intensive Care Unit, and the hospital hallways would be chaotic with the doctors and nurses wheeling other victims every which way. They'd hook her up to new machines, jam new needles and new drugs into her fragile veins.

And Danny, he'd have sat by her bed, afraid to touch her, feeling awkward that she had no left hand to hold anymore. He'd feel even worse, knowing that the ventilator took up the space on her right side, leaving no room for him to move the chair to hold her remaining hand.

He'd be making promises, talking to her the entire time. He wouldn't have gone back to the wreckage to help.

And days and days later, once they slowly weaned her off the dopamine and the antibiotics, Sam would wake up in the absolute worst pain of her life, confused, possibly suffering brain damage or memory loss. She'd try to pull out the breathing apparatus with a hand that no longer existed.

And Danny's heart would break for her, again and again with every struggled breath she took. He'd cry, because he'd remember the pure potential that once whipped from her eyes like the fire that had scorned her, and he'd know that she would never be the same.

She would never be Sam again, not like he knew her.

It was then Danny realized that Sam probably would have wanted to die. She was a fighter, but everyone had limits. Sam's limit was her individuality, her expression of freedom. In such a wrecked body…

…Sam would have been dependent on everything and everyone, and whatever part of her mind that still existed would have hated it.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Danny thought of happier, less realistic outcomes.<p>

He imagined that Sam would pull through her surgeries, wake up a couple days later, and then give him the biggest tongue lashing for not going back to the wreck to save other people, telling him that he'd worried about her for nothing and had put innocent lives at risk for thinking her any more worthy of life.

She'd wince in pain, quickly realizing the extent of her injuries. Horror would cross her burned face (only half was burned, because she'd been slumped in her seat, and the cushion had saved the right side of her features), and she'd turn away from him in embarrassment. Then she'd crack some sarcastic statement that would hint he needed to leave.

But he wouldn't leave. He'd stay right by her side and annoy her like a good friend.

Her parents would invest their entire life savings into buying the best prosthetic limbs available, and Mrs. Manson-the ever-caring but perhaps materialistically obsessed mother-would have an entire squad of plastic surgeons would work on reconstructing Sam's burned skin into unmarred smoothness. Sam would never admit the depth of her gratefulness for it.

Danny would hide mirrors from her and go to all of Sam's rehab sessions. He'd help her learn how to walk again, laugh again, feel beautiful again.

And when they got really tired of it all, he'd take her flying.

* * *

><p>Most of the time, though, Danny stood at her grave and knew that his dreams were just dreams, and he'd never fly with her again.<p>

"Maybe," he whispered out loud, "never fly at all."

Her grave was cold, as always, soaking through his gloves to twist his nerves just wrong. He was hunched over, proud shoulders bowed under the weight of failure and distant memory. His hair hung in his eyes, but he didn't move to brush it out of the way.

He didn't even remember storming out of Clockwork's Tower, nor did he remember his trek back to the human world. By the time he was capable of processing the environment around him, he was at the cemetery, leaning against Sam's vault.

Here. He had to be here, with her. Every fiber of his being pulsed with the need for connection.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Bone-wrenching guilt and pain swept through him. "I'm so sorry."

The silence of the cemetery itched his ears. "I can't save you," he added. "I tried."

No reply.

He wanted something to happen, like for Sam's ghost to awaken, separate from her body, and rudely dial him back into reality like only Sam could. But nothing. No ghost. No movement.

Nothing.

A well of rage and pain bubbled up through him, and he slammed his fist down on the vault. "Dammit!" he seethed, crying. "Dammit, I tried! I tried, Sam!" His voice broke. "I did _everything_!" His fingers scratched into the limestone. "I tried everything! So talk to me! Tell me you hate me! Call me a failure! Anything!"

Still nothing.

His welling eyes stared at the unmoving vault. "Just…_please_. Do something."

He could imagine Sam's reaction to his emotional tirade. Between the two of them, she was the most logical and grounded. "You don't wanna talk? Fine."

It was silent for some time.

You're supposed to tell me I'm an idiot," he supplied. "For starters. Then you're supposed to tell me that failure makes me human, or some shit like that, and that you don't accept my apology because there's nothing to apologize for."

As much as he begged the world to hear those words from Sam's mouth, they never echoed in reality.

For a moment, he forced himself to believe that they could echo.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, and a stream of tears trailed down his face. "Geez," he breathed. "I'm going insane." He swallowed hard. "I'm talking to myself while I talk to a vault wall. I'm actually going insane." He rubbed his eyes, quickly brushing away the tears.

"Sam, what have you _done_ to me?"

When he received no reply yet again, a dark frown deepened the pain on his face.

"At least you can admit your problem," a very familiar voice called.

Cold water stormed down Danny's spine. He knew that voice anywhere.

Maddie Fenton.

The ghost turned to her, startled, eyes flashing with tears. The mother wearily stood at the cemetery entrance. On her wrist, the tracker blinked with a strong ectoplasmic reading-Phantom's signature.

For a moment, the ghost appeared ready to fly away. "Wh-what are you doing here?" he questioned roughly, back stepping. "How long have you-?"

"I picked up on your signature. I've been here awhile." Her eyes narrowed in curiosity, analyzing the ghost's grieving face. "I realized you're…not your usual self."

He stared hard at her, as if assessing her motives and purpose for confronting him. His gaze lingered on her free hands. A blaster rested at her hip, but it wasn't in her hands. She wasn't there to fight. Satisfied that he wasn't in immediate danger, Phantom turned away. "Like you care," he scoffed.

"You know, my son lost someone on that train," Maddie said. Her voice carried without its usual, defensive inflections. She sat down beside a gravestone angel, the limestone of the memorial cold, even through her gloves. "The person he lost…Her name was Sam. You're standing at her grave."

Phantom flinched. He turned to Maddie, emerald eyes guarded. "I know."

"I take it you lost her too," the mother said wearily, looking through him in a way only a mother could, and she studied him in a way only a scientist could.

The combination set him on edge.

"What do you know of losing someone?" he snarled, although it was without true force. Her eyes burned him. "You don't know anything. You couldn't possibly understand!"

"I lost my son," Maddie replied. "It's a little different, but when Sam passed, I lost him too. I haven't seen him in days. I doubt he'll ever be the same."

Something in his gaze shifted, as if in guilt. "You didn't lose him," he said strangely. "He's still here."

"Somewhere," Maddie held her hands up, voice torn. "But I don't know where." Her perceptive, all-knowing gaze landed on him. "Although I'm willing to bet you know more about my son and Sam than you let on. Your presence seems to gravitate around them."

That strange spark of guilt in his gaze heightened. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Your son… is in the city. I saw him earlier, but I haven't seen him since I came here. That's all I know."

"And of Sam?" Maddie pressed, unsatisfied by his answer. "Why are you _here_?"

He sharply replied, "What, is it a crime now for a ghost to visit a grave? I thought that was pretty appropriate, all things considered."

His defensive reply solidified Maddie's suspicions, and so she cautiously treaded forward. "Look," she started, hesitant, "it's not that you're at a grave…It's that you're at _Sam's_ grave. I never brought it up with my son, because I didn't want to see him hurt, and I knew how special Sam was to him, to all of us. But people talked. Said they saw 'the Manson girl' with you." She clenched her hands. "I just need to understand…Did you really know her in life? Did you have some sort of…prior relationship with her that would explain both her actions and yours?"

His head turned so hard, she winced for him. This time a laugh tore from his throat, but it cracked with sobs. "You're crazy," he whispered.

"And you're too human," Maddie suddenly said, purple eyes sad and curious. "You're too human to be a ghost. I haven't decided if you really are the hero the city makes you out to be, but I _do _know that you've visited this grave more than once. I also know that you're exhibiting signs of grief, and Sam is the reason for it."

She pulled out her blaster and dropped it to the ground, leveling gazes with him. It was a silent call for ceasefire. "Something about you doesn't make sense, Phantom. I've studied ghosts all my life, and you just break too many theories. I want to know why. I want to know what Sam did to affect you like this." She stepped forward.

"No!" he shouted. His wild green eyes stormed into her, seething with fear and anxiety. He raised his hands, glowing with ectoplasm, instinctively ready to bolt if she came closer. "Stay back!"

She raised her hands up to show she carried no other weapon. "I'm here to help," she said, steady and calm. "You've shown a capacity for emotion that's forced me to rethink some things about you. I just want to talk. I want to help you so that I can understand you."

"You can't help me," he said forcefully, afraid. He back stepped. "No one can."

"Maybe, maybe not," Maddie said. "But I can listen." Her eyes never wavered. "You need someone to listen, don't you?"

For a moment, she thought she saw her son stare back at her. But then the look was masked by a sad, distant realization. "You wouldn't listen," he said. 'You'd shoot first and ask questions later."

"Not this time," she promised. "Above all, I'm a scientist, not a bounty hunter."

His emerald eyes welled up, and he blinked away the tears. "But you hate me," he said. "You _hate _me."

"I misunderstood you," Maddie corrected. "I don't hate you."

The glowing ectoplasm in his palm sparked away into nothing with her admission. Phantom's entire body revealed his conflicting emotions. He was tense and hesitant, but the lines of his shoulders leaned towards Maddie, as if he were about to move closer.

_I don't hate you. I don't hate you. I don't hate you. _

It echoed deep in him, smoothing over years of uncertainty and pain. "Do…do you really mean that?" he whispered. "You don't hate me?"

She pressed her lips together and then replied, "I meant exactly what I said."

"…And this isn't just a trick, right? Because…" he trailed off, swallowing hard. His voice hitched. "You sounded like m-my _mo-_" He caught himself before he could say it.

Then he realized it really didn't matter whether he said it or not.

Maddie had never been a mother to Phantom, and he'd almost gotten used to it. He'd almost separated Maddie the mother and Maddie the ghost hunter. Almost.

She blinked. "I sounded like what?"

"Nothing," he said too quickly. Something overcame him and made him appear even more haggard than before. "Just…forget it. It's not important anyway."

She gave him a hard look, as any mother would, but the hardened press of her lips spoke of her reluctant agreement to let Phantom's slip-up pass. "So what is important, then? To you?"

"…Nothing anymore," was his soft reply, turning back to Sam's grave. "I…"

Phantom trailed off, unable to form the words. Maddie watched him swallow hard, studying every tense muscle that held back the wave of grief welling within him.

She was surprised when he tried again. "I…loved her," he said, voice breaking. "I _loved _Sam."

Maddie stared at him in shock, knowing that ghosts did not love; they obsessed. The fact that Phantom himself did not admit this intrigued her. "I see," she said slowly. She concluded that his innate need for an obsession tied him to Sam, which was most likely a natural progression from whatever relationship he'd had with her in life. "But why? What did she ever do for you to create this obsession?" Her purple eyes were too piercing. "And why did you choose her?"

"I didn't just choose her, okay?" he returned, somewhat frustrated. He quickly rubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears. "She chose me. We were chosen. I don't-I can't really explain it. And she's _not _just an obsession. If she was, I would only need her. But I don't just need Sam: I want Sam. And I want Sam…to want me."

The mother hummed, looking down at the grass. "You talk as if she's still alive."

"She is, in a way." Phantom's eyes grew distant. "But you wouldn't understand."

Maddie gave him a strange look. "Apparently not." She crossed her arms and raised a tired brow. "Nor do I understand yet why you chose Sam, of all people."

"You don't need to understand."

"My son was _dating_ Sam, Phantom. I think I have a right to know." She crossed her arms and raised a tired brow. "Unless you have an legitimate reason for the numerous reports of your…consorting with Sam.

The boy's breath slipped from between his lips in a sigh. He tried to form a legitimate reason, but he knew he couldn't. Aside from revealing his secret, nothing would properly settle Maddie's questions. And even though she wasn't quite as violent as usual, he wasn't ready to risk a total familial collapse just yet.

His mind hinged between amusement and depression as he told his mother, "I don't have any good reasons. It just happened. Sam made me feel…alive. She made me feel real, like I was _meant _for something."

That bitter laugh worked its way up his worn throat. "But it seems like everything I do just makes everything worse."

Maddie grew increasingly concerned as the upturned, bitter twitch of Phantom's lips pulled back into gut-wrenching sob, and he turned away to hide it.

Depression. The fourth stage of grieving.

This one-dimensionally-minded being was trapped in a dynamic, human process, and that was enough proof for Maddie that Phantom was not so evil.

She stepped forward. "Phantom, I-"

"-Just go," he cut in, begging. His broken soul lay bare in his eyes as he looked at her. "Go, please. I can't answer your questions anymore. I'm tired. I want to be alone. I _need _rest."

She watched Phantom slide down beside the vault in an exhausted slump, dirtying his suit. And as much as her instincts said to go to him, to lay a hand on his shoulder and comfort him as she would her son, to pick him up from the mud and help him stand, she didn't.

Instead, she nodded and said, "Jack and I will be monitoring this grave site for increased activity. You should…" she trailed off, swallowing hard, "…be careful."

Then she turned and picked up her blaster from the mud, walking away with stormy, unsettled eyes.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So I've been gone for a while. The extended length of this update is sort of my apology for disappearing the last couple of months. Hopefully, I got Maddie's character down in this update. I wanted her to be more open to Phantom without her being too sentimental or motherly. I also hope I got Danny's character down. There's a fine line between sorrow and melodrama, and I'm not sure if I crossed that line. _

_My friend David is still in the hospital, suffering from brain damage and a whole plate of different health problems as a result of his heart attack. We're not sure how long he's going to last at this point. He's aware of himself enough that he wants to die, and I'm just not sure how to handle that. But thanks for all of your thoughts and prayers, guys. I really appreciate it. _

_Also, thanks to _**Dev Li**, **ShadowDragon357, jazzmonkey, Super-Berry, AnimationNut, MsFrizzle, Time, opium song, **_and _**TiFu **_for reviewing last chapter! Your reviews were all a bright spot in otherwise bleak days. _

_Let me know your thoughts about this chapter (plot, characters, flow, questions/predictions), and if you have any ideas!_

_Thanks for reading, Lightning Streak_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 9**

* * *

><p>The entire city of Amity Park knew something was wrong with their resident hero. The rumors infected even the most rational of minds: Danny Phantom was going insane. Danny Phantom was becoming evil. Danny Phantom had a lover who died on the train.<p>

The last rumor, upon numerous trips to the cemetery, was proven to be true. For fear that other rumors were true, the people gave space to Phantom. No one knew what a ghost consumed by grief would do. Some suggested that perhaps he really would go insane, lash out, turn against the city he once loved.

Everyone hoped it would not be true, but many still wondered.

* * *

><p>When Danny closed his eyes, he sometimes imagined what it would be like to have taken Sam's place-to be the one who died instead of her. He'd be on his way back from his interview, maybe. Something like that would have drained him of any energy to fly home.<p>

The explosion would have happened too fast for him to go intangible. No, without prior knowledge, he would have been as subject to the explosion as anyone else.

The intensity of the sun would engulf him for a never-ending second or two, and he would forget to think as his body pitched and spasmed in the flames and derailing car. He'd slam against the metal frame as the glass shattered around him, and his nerve endings would splinter as bone and muscle unraveled.

Then the smoke and silence would come.

In the desperately re-sparking portion of his mind (_Dead…am I dead_?), he'd register movement. Sirens. Ambulances. People pulling people out. He'd noticed that he was buried underneath a warped metal panel.

He'd know he was dying.

And Sam, through some inexplicable phenomena involving a psychological connection with him, would know. She'd _know _before he'd know what was wrong, and she'd arrive on scene just as the sparks would begin to fade behind his eyes. She'd even know where to find him.

He would hear her call in the distance, and he'd think she sounded like lightning striking concrete. Impossibly loud and powerful. A crashing wave that blurred in the chaos.

It numbed him.

"Danny?" she'd whisper, her purple eyes wild with true fear and life. She'd drop down beside him, pulling away the panel and debris, not even noticing how the action burnt her hands. "Oh my God, Danny? Danny!"

Tears would fall from those bright eyes, and she'd sob for the first time in years. "Danny, you're gonna be okay. You'll be okay; just hang in here with me, alright?"

He wouldn't be able to turn his head with his broken neck, but she'd move. She'd try to wave over a medic.

"Oh God," she'd say, almost a mantra, unable to say anything else. "Oh God, please don't die. Danny, please…"

But he knew they wouldn't arrive in time. A dozen other people were trying to save everyone else. He was just another victim to too many other people.

With the last reserve of energy, he would force himself to remain tied to his broken body for a moment longer. He'd make his burnt lips move to say her name. It'd come out as a grunt, unintelligible, for his vocal cords were as hemorrhaged as the rest of his internal organs.

"Danny, you have to hang on," she'd say shakily, terrified.

After a second, she'd decided to keep talking. "Don't leave me," she'd plead, voice hitching, even as sound blitzed and crackled in his ears like fire.

Then lightning would crash in his ears, and he'd look up into Sam's eyes, watching as she gently unfocused into clouds of light. The ectoplasm in his blood would fade, dissolve as his blood slowed.

Then he'd just…stop.

Maybe from the sky he'd hear her sobs turn to shrieks as the medics pulled her away.

* * *

><p>Small hands on his shoulder shook him awake. His blurry eyes snapped open, confused.<p>

Then reality.

"…Jazz?" he said, voice cracked with sleep and sadness. He sat up in a struggle, realizing he'd twisted his sheets into a knot about himself. Home. He was in his own bed. Cold air stung his face in rivers. Quickly realizing why, he brushed the tear trails from his cheeks and tried to look at his sister. "What are you doing here?"

He almost asked how _he'd_ even gotten home, but he was afraid to look more insane than he already was.

Jazz sat next to his bed, biting her lip. "You were crying. Was…was it the same dream?"

He hesitated. Then he nodded.

She gathered her brother into a giant hug, and he hesitated only for a second. Then he threw his arms around her and hid his face in her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. "I dreamed it was me," he said. "That I was on the train instead of Sam. I was so…content."

His sister pressed her lips together while she ran her hands through his black hair, something she'd done in the past to comfort him.

"I wanted to die for her, Jazz," he said, voice shaky and soft. He was afraid to admit it. "I wanted to die."

He could tell by the sudden pause in her fingers, the sharp inhale of her breath, that his words pained her. Jazz continued stroking his hair, this time fearfully, as if he were breakable-or more powerful than she could have ever imagined. "I know."

"I would die for her. I'd take her spot."

"I know you would."

"She didn't need to die."

"No." Jazz swallowed hard. "She didn't."

He pulled back and looked his sister in the eyes, suddenly unashamed to do so. He searched for any signs of deceit, that maybe she was faking her answers simply for the sake of calming him down, but he found none.

Instead, he found something of a void; a break in Jazz's gaze, where she tried to avoid the pain in his eyes.

She didn't understand. Not really.

And for some reason, that hurt him more than if she were lying.

Danny pushed her away suddenly, feeling irritation and righteous anger storm through him. Then guilt.

"Danny-?"

"-I'm sorry, Jazz." He wiped his face of tears. "I can't…" Why was he acting so strange? "Just…go…"

His sister hesitated. She bit her lip and then reached for him, but he flinched away. Then, like a cornered animal, he snapped back at her. "I said, go!" he snarled.

Danny's eyes glowed an angry green, and Jazz back stepped, frightened at the sudden change in her grieving brother. She held up her hands. "Umm, okay, Danny. I'm going, alright?" She swallowed hard at his gaze. "Please, let me know if you need anything. Okay?"

He looked away. "You can't get me anything I need."

"Danny, I'm serious. Please, let me know. I just want to help you."

A flash of light flickered across his body, replacing his human features with ghost ones. "I'm serious, too." Then his fists clenched. "I wish…"

His eyes widened. His fist unclenched. "I wish."

Then he was gone, but to where, Jazz didn't know.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__For those who did not read my update in Theoretically Illogical, David died last September. He had another heart attack, but he was "with it" enough to deny treatment. The doctors gave him morphine. He opted not to have a funeral and to be cremated. He could have survived had he agreed to go to the hospital, but he chose to die. I think he was happy. _

_I had a previous report about David all ready to go, but I never finished this chapter in time and had to reupdate the news. Then I let this story go by the wayside for the longest time, because it was hard to think about death. But now I'm doing okay; I'm keeping busy with my family, jobs, and internship as an editor/writer. I survived my junior year in college, and I'm looking forward to my last year. I keep feeling this strange listlessness, though, like I don't know what to really do with my life right now. Weird. I am planning an update to Chained, so keep an eye out for that. _

_Thanks so much to_: **ShadowDragon357, DBack47, mellimon, maltese, MsFrizzle, AnimationNut, Word Doc, GirlWhoLovesDP, gold charmed,** _and _**OS. **_I really, really appreciate you guys. _

_Updated: Friday, June, 28, 2013. _

_I don't imagine that this story will reach an excessive chapter amount, as I'm beginning to plan its end, but if you have any ideas, please let me know! Sorry for the long author's note. _

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 10**

* * *

><p>"Clockwork!" called an Observant, waving his arms frantically. "Clockwork, you must stop this madness at once! Are you not aware of your charge's actions?!"<p>

The old man set down a broken clock, the very one Danny had broken in the past, and sighed. He closed his eyes. "Yes, I am aware. I'm always aware. You need not remind me."

"And you're not going to do anything?!" the Observant asked with a hiss. "Again?"

"Perhaps I tire of doing your dirty work," Clockwork said. His old, gravelly voice weighed heavy on the air.

"Your opinion matters not with this," said the Observant. "The Council elected you to this position, and as such it is your duty to maintain order, something that will be inevitably disturbed if Danny Phantom reaches the genie's lair! Act now, and be done with it!"

"Do not talk to me about maintaining order," Clockwork turned a glaring, red eye at the Observant. "You only create chaos with your sniveling demands for more violence. What would you have me do to stop him? Kill him?"

The Observant fell silent. Then, "Perhaps, considering all the consequences, that would be the most expedient option."

Clockwork rounded on the Observant, all knowing. "My charge is currently fueled with the most powerful emotions experienced by the human race. Not even his own death will stop his quest to bring back the one he lost. No: he must go to the genie's lair. He must see the consequences of his actions."

"But he is challenging the very fabric of the universe!" babbled the Observant. "We do not know of the consequences!"

"Of course you do not know; you do not see." Clockwork turned away. "Danny Phantom must confront the genie Desiree. And there, he will discover that his own actions carry in them an equivalent punishment for his crimes."

"But how do you know?" the Observant pressed. "How do you know this will placate him, stop him from pursuing an even more insane quest?"

"Because he will see Samantha Manson again."

But Clockwork's face became impassive, and the Observant threw his hands up in the air, mumbling about ridiculous coworkers and illogical predictions.

* * *

><p>Time itself had become something of a novel idea for Danny. He felt as if he flowed with the very lines of time as he traversed the infinite distances of the Zone. He wondered if perhaps Clockwork sanctioned this new quest. No doors, no dragons, no enemies in his way-surely, the Master of Time must have manipulated time and space for him.<p>

But Danny continued on, pushing himself forward with new gusts of energy. In the distance, he could see Desiree's lair, a desert island housing a great oasis. Palm trees and green brush surrounded a fountain of water, and its river slid off the side of the island in a never-ending waterfall.

Danny wondered what Sam would think of it. A spark (of hope? Of fear?) struck him, for he figured he wouldn't have to wonder for long.

She'd breathe in a long, enduring breath as they'd sit on the sand, and she'd say with a wry smile, "I never thought I'd miss the sun."

As he crossed into the island's borders, he saw a large purple and green tent etched with golden designs. He landed on the sandy path before it, and with great determination, he flung open the tent flap.

"Desiree!" he called. His voice echoed; the inside of the tent was much larger than it seemed on the outside.

For a moment, he saw nothing. Thick incense fogged the room, and distant candlelight glowed in a blurring haze.

But after a heartbeat or two, the smoke moved and curled up about a golden throne. The smoke gave way to green flesh and silks and dangling coins. A set of guarded, red eyes flashed as the genie Desiree said dryly, "You rang?"

Danny stepped forward. "I'm here to make a wish."

Desiree's eyes widened in shock, then pleasure. "The ghost boy, he who exiled me here for my powers, has returned for my help?" She scoffed. "The arrogance of men…" Her knowing eyes slipped down, measuring up the ghost before her. "And boys."

Danny swallowed back a retort, although he could not hide the faint blush that tinged his cheeks. He had the distinct feeling that he was the target of some obscene joke known only to Desiree herself. Her laughter funneled about him and pressed in from all sides.

"This is serious," he said. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have another option."

"Of course not," the genie nodded, pursing her full lips in a barely concealed smirk. "I would expect nothing less from the incorruptible Danny Phantom." She leaned forward in her seat. "Now tell me, what is your wish? Many approach my tent, but I accept only the wishes that will greatly enhance my power."

He noticed a hunger in her eyes, mixed with anticipation. He'd forgotten that any wish granted by Desiree worked to strengthen her power, possibly enough for her to gain access back into the human world.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?" he asked, squelching his fears and uncertainties. He wasn't making a deal with the devil. Not at all.

Desiree's lips curled up in a smile. She stood from her throne and floated down before Danny. Her close proximity made the boy stiffen warily, but Desiree merely whispered in his ear, "With the right amount of desperation and power infused in your wish, I could do anything."

Danny swallowed hard. "Then I wish…" He licked his lips, feeling emotion tighten his throat. He needed this. He needed her. "I wish that Sam, my Sam, would be brought back to life."

Desiree tilted her head and considered the request. "What a completely selfish and yet selfless wish." Her eyes glittered. "This shall make me very powerful."

"But don't screw it up like I know you want to," Danny added wearily. "I want Samantha Manson brought back whole. Fully human, unharmed. No strange ghost features. No zombie brain. All of her. Just the way she was."

The genie pouted. "You ruin my fun." She turned away and raised her hands. "But so you have wished it, so shall it be!"

Lightning crackled down from the tent ceiling, and the dust and the sand of the floor rose up in a storm. Danny shielded his eyes instinctively.

_ Please work please work please work. _

In the center of the cyclone, a dark shadow formed and outlined itself, mixing with trails of water beads. The sand and the dirt smoothed over into pale flesh, and the darkness expanded out into limbs, into locks of black hair.

Then the storm disappeared, and a body wrapped in a shredded, glowing green dress fell to the floor.

Danny's heart raced. He launched forward and caught the girl before she could hit the ground. His fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress as he felt her weight collapse against him.

Sam. This woman looked like Sam. Felt like Sam. Her rail-skinny body was cold in his arms, and tears burned behind his eyes as fearful, terrible hope choked his thoughts.

All thoughts regarding time and space, Desiree and her power, disappeared. A great, muscle clenching gasp overcame the woman in his arms as she inhaled for the first time.

Tears slipped down Danny's face as he stroked the soft skin of her neck, comforting her back to a calm state. "Sam," he whispered, voice breaking. Her name breaking through his voice sounded like waves crashing against the shore. Simple. Powerful. Sam. "Please, open your eyes. It's okay. It's okay."

And then her eyelashes, dark, jagged, twitched and opened.

Bright lights glowed from her violet eyes as she studied him, and him her.

A deep, sudden fear overwhelmed.

He saw no recognition in her eyes.

Her lips cracked open. "F…" her voice rasped. Her hands raised up to run down Danny's face. Her nails were long.

"Come on, Sam," he leaned into her touch, his eyes searing into hers, waiting. "Come on, you got this."

She tilted her head. "…Flesh…walker?" she whispered, her voice lower and smoother than Danny ever remembered Sam Manson's voice.

Cold water stormed down Danny's spine. "…Sam?"

A flash, an image from his past, came to mind. Sam in a shredded green dress. Sam connected to vines. A gigantic ghost standing above her as a puppeteer, laughing.

Sam dropped her hand and sat up, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "Fleshwalker," she said suddenly. "Where is the Great Father?"

He released her with a flinch, eyes wide. Now he saw it. The brightness of her eyes was an extra glow. Inhuman.

She demanded, lips curling into a smile, "Have you come to rule with me at last?"

Desiree floated off to the side, arms cross, smirking.

Danny turned to her, his hope dashed. "What have you done?!"

The genie shrugged. "You asked for Sam Manson. I gave you Sam Manson."

"No, this is a possessed Sam." A torrential rage swept through him, masking his pain. "You _promised_. You promised you'd bring her back!"

Sam, or whatever it was, glanced at her nails in appraisal.

"But I did bring her back," Desiree said smoothly. "It's just that I can only bring back people infused with ectoplasm. Therefore, the only Sam Manson that I could resurrect was this one. She is still a facet of _your _Sam, just as real and human as any other." She sniffed. "With a few minor additions."

Danny stared back the plant caretaker, speechless, in horror of the monster before him.

"All wishes are nonrefundable. Have fun," Desiree smirked, then disappeared into a cloud of smoke, her body glowing with the pure power obtained from Danny's wish.

A moan of sadness (or was it a sob?) escaped his lips as he stared at Sam.

The Plant Caretaker walked towards him, albeit unsteadily without the aid of vines. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He froze. "Danny," she whispered in a spark of recognition, her seductive voice a breath in his ear. "Aren't you happy to see me?" Her long nails trailed down the hair on the nape of his neck. "Haven't you missed me?"

The ghost stared into the eyes of his dead girlfriend, of the Not-Sam who felt just like Real-Sam. Tears brightened his eyes. Pain tore through his collarbones, and he realized that he wanted this.

He wanted to feel her, to be next to her, and she felt so real…even if she wasn't.

"I've missed you," she said, glowing eyes closing in delight as she leaned against him. "I watched you while I was in the dark. You were wilting without me." Her fingertips grazed his stooped shoulder blades. "And you are such a unique creation, a brilliant flower. You need me."

His breath hitched. He tried to move away from her, but she followed.

"You could rule with me," she tempted him. "When he awakens again, our Great Father will transform this world and the human one back to jungles and forests. It could just be us."

Her words, her syntax. It was wrong, all of it was wrong. Not Sam at all.

The strap to her dress fell to her shoulders as she pulled away to stare him in the eyes. He couldn't look away from her pale shoulder, the one that had been torn and shredded in the train explosion. "We could be the caretakers of the earth. Together…as one. No one else to get in our way."

Danny backed away to keep himself from walking forward. This wasn't Sam. This wasn't Sam. This was only a passing moment that never should have been. A mockery of the real Samantha Manson, who would never dare to obliterate life for self-gain.

She stepped forward, her footing uncertain.

"S-stop," Danny said, voice breaking. "Stay there."

"But you brought me back," she said, smiling. "You wished me here." She raised her hands, and from the sand of the tent floor grew large, green vines. They wrapped about her in an embrace, strengthening her limbs.

"You must become one with us, Danny."

He back stepped again and nearly tripped. Vines shot out every which way. Some tried to wrap themselves around him. He half-heartedly shot out an ectoplasmic blast to cut away their attempts, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu overwhelm him. The vines crumbled under his power.

The Not-Sam cried out, reaching forward, "Our children!" She stormed to the cut vines, lifting them tenderly into her hands. They turned to dust, and she gasped in sorrow.

Then she looked up. Her eyes darkened, the violet irises bleeding away into a chlorophyll green. "You would murder our children?"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" he asked incredulously.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you, Fleshwalker," she rose from the dust of the vines, the lines of her body hardening with anger. "If you cannot accept a role as caretaker," she said, the seduction in her voice edging into steel, "then perhaps would do better as my children's food source."

A sudden, dry laugh worked its way through his cracked lips. "A food source?" The laugh hurt his throat. "I try to bring you back, and all I am is a fucking food source?" Tears leaked from his eyes as he laughed, border lining on hysteria. "That's great. Fantastic." He looked up at the ceiling with his blurry vision. "Clockwork, are you watching this? Is this what you wanted?"

The not-Sam growled, and she blurred suddenly. The next second, her slim hands were choking him, bringing him back to reality. And it hurt.

Air. He needed it. Not-Sam smiled, her sharp teeth glinting in the light, as his large hands grasped at her arms to push her away. "You are weak, Fleshwalker." Her claws dug into his skin, clenching around his neck tighter and tighter. "I will drain you and leave you as little more than a husk."

Then he realized that Not-Sam was actively trying to kill him.

His mind raced, instinct overriding him. His grip tightened on the not-Sam's arms (and oh god, they were smooth, so smooth). Maybe he could still save her. Maybe he could push the ghost energy out of her, like he had done once when Tucker was overshadowed by his own wish for ghost-powers.

Dots danced in his vision as he locked gazes with the not-Sam. Then he shot his own energy through her arms.

Her chlorophyll-green eyes widened. Her full lips opened in a strangled cry as she broke away from him, unhooking chokehold. He nearly fell backwards, catching himself with a stumble and gulps of air. He looked up to see if his plan had worked.

But the woman before him had not fully separated from the ghost energy. And oh god oh god, her arms were gone at the elbow. And from the jagged stumps wisped out the green energy that had threaded her entire body together. Her green eyes bled back into violet, and the terror on her face struck him like a slap on the face. There, crumpled on the floor, the doll body took on some true semblance of Sam.

His breath stalled.

Sam struggled inside her broken body. "…Danny?" She reached for him, only to realize her arms were fading out. Horror froze her face.

He dropped down beside her and scooped her up into his arms, holding her close. "-Sam, please don't go." Words rushed out of him in a frenzy. "I can fix this. I can keep you here."

But by the time he tried to give her energy instead of wipe it out, she'd already faded too much, her remaining body transparent.

A sudden air overwhelmed her, draining the tension from her face, her body. She looked up at him with great sorrow.

"Sam, I can save you. Come on, just-"

"Stop," she whispered. She closed her violet eyes and leaned into his chest, her ear over his heart. "Just stop." He could barely feel her weight. He gripped her tighter to prove to himself she was still there.

"I can't stop," he admitted. "Sam, I have to-"

"-I know." Her voice was ragged, "But…" She tried to lift one of her arms, only to grimace. "This body..." A great sigh slacked her body into perfect calmness. "Wasn't made for real life."

He knew as much as her that Desiree had not given her a real body, with true flesh and blood. She'd brought back enough of a soul to call Sam human, and that was it. This conjuration couldn't support life without ectoplasm.

Danny's vision of her blurred; pain tore through him. "Sam, please." He hid his face in her sleek mop of black hair, breathing in her scent. "Don't go." Words and confessions froze his tongue in his mouth. He wanted to tell her everything. All that came out was, "Don't go, don't go, don't go…"

Then the last energy holding her together dissipated into the air, slipping through his fingers.

For a moment, he sat in silence on the floor, inhaling one shaky breath after another, his thoughts wildly blank.

He scrunched his eyes tight, and tears ran down his face. He felt himself unravel as he held his head in his hands. He'd held her, and yet he hadn't. "I'm sorry, Sam." He'd brought to life a monster with her face on it, a shadow of humanity. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

Desiree's distant laugh echoed about him, along with a suffering sigh from Clockwork.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Wow, so I've really been gone for a while. I'm doing alright, but I'm trying to get a real job and graduate by May, so fanfics have sort of been on the back burner for a while. Thankfully, I got a little extra time in to get this chapter done. There's nothing like a little Danny-angst to liven up one's holiday spirit, eh? _

_Thank you for reviewing last time: _**MsFrizzle, sammansonrepilica, Life in Ivy_, _**_and_**_ Word Doc!_**

_Please review and let me know what you think or what you want to see happen next with this story! Thank you all for your support and for all the praise/critique you've offered to Quantum Paradox. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! _

_Thanks for reading,  
>Lightning Streak<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Hey, everyone! Wow, this is a pretty good updating time for me, lol. But I have good news! __**NeoRetro10K**__ has created a title card for Quantum Paradox! You can visit the original image on deviant art, under NeoRetro10K's name. A super-awesome shout out is deserved. I'm so pleased and excited. It's beautiful! So to celebrate, here's another chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox <strong>

**Chapter 11**

* * *

><p>Clockwork watched as Danny trudged back into the tower quite a while later. The boy did not fly. He floated a few inches off the ground, moving one foot in front of the other.<p>

The older ghost said, voice soft, "Daniel?"

His charge lifted his head, eyeing Clockwork with a bloodshot gaze. Then Danny looked down again. He kept trudging towards the portals.

With a sigh, Clockwork said, "Daniel, you must understand that I-"

"-Shut up." Danny's hoarse voice tore through the air with a hiss. "Just shut up." He waved Clockwork off with a careless hand. "I don't want to hear it."

Clockwork honored his request and remained silent. He leaned a bit heavier on his staff, gripping it tightly.

Danny's features were drawn and gaunt of life. He looked as if he had cried, his eyes rimmed and nose tipped red, but no tears streaked his cheeks even though they blurred his vision. His once-proud shoulders were permanently stooped.

And he trudged through to the portal into present-time Amity Park, back home without one more word to his mentor.

* * *

><p>On the other side of the portal, Amity Park looked sunny. Fluffy clouds bounced in the sky, and a light wind twirled around him. He'd been dumped out in the middle of town, where bright cars rumbled by.<p>

Danny scowled, wincing at the glares of the sun from passing windshields. He turned himself invisible to avoid drawing attention to himself.

What was this? Why was the world not raining or dark or depressing? Why were some people laughing?

Amity Park was still in mourning, it had to be. It needed to be in mourning. How dare it look happy.

From behind a building, he materialized and transformed back into his human ego, his feet lightly hitting the pavement for the first time in quite a while. He winced. His legs felt asleep in the worst way; pins and needles stormed up his spine, and he nearly doubled over. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reground himself. "Jesus," he breathed.

It felt as if the entire world, his own body, was against him.

"…Having trouble there, little badger?"

Danny froze. Horror filled him. Slowly, he turned around just as he realized that his ghost sense had gone off.

Vlad leaned against a limo, smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding a martini in the other. He looked as he always did, prim and proper, sleek in Armani. But his blue eyes were piercing, scanning Danny over.

The boy back stepped. "What are you doing here?" he said, voice in a snarl of surprise and anger. He could have sworn this alley wasn't ever used.

Vlad kicked his foot off the wheel of his limo, inhaling on his cigarette. When he blew out the smoke, it was in rings. "My boy, this building is my office. I was out here for a spot of fresh air, but now I'm far more interested in your little visit." He hummed. "And here I was just thinking of you."

Of course. This building _would_ just have to be Vlad's mayoral office.

Danny stood ramrod straight, waiting for Vlad to transform and attack, waiting for a magenta plasma blast to shoot at him from out of nowhere. Vlad thinking about him was never a good thing. He narrowed his eyes, fully aware that he looked probably as intimidating as a wet sock. "What do you want, Vlad?" He spat the name.

The older man tsked. "Such disrespect. And here I was about to question after your health. Really, Daniel, you look terrible." Some glimmer of humanity bled into Vlad's eyes. "I do believe that your family will be ecstatic to know you're not dead."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Not dead?"

"You've been gone for a few good days. Your mother came to the building today to file an official missing persons report. She looked very distraught. " He shook his head. "What an awful thing to do to her, Daniel. Leaving her like that."

Danny turned away. "Like you know."

If Vlad were ever capable of snorting, perhaps he would have in that moment. He instead opted to take another drag on the cigarette. Then, in a smooth, careless puff of smoke, "You think I don't know what it's like to lose the woman I love?"

Fire rose up in Danny's stomach, clenching his fists and gnashing his teeth together. All he could manage was to turn around and glare at Vlad.

"Ooh, the scary eyes. Really, Daniel." Vlad raised his martini glass to eye level, appraising the liquid in it. "You should know that the pain never really goes away."

"I'm not you," Danny managed to whisper, throat choked up in a multitude of emotions. "I'll never be you."

Vlad's lips twitched up in a humorless smile that made his eyes shine like black rocks. "No. I suppose not." He sipped that martini. "I suppose that you wouldn't have the emotional stability to stand in front of national television and tell all the mourning families that their children and mothers and fathers will be remembered by the masses. By lifeless plaques." He laughed, but it was bitter. "You couldn't do it like I did. You lack finesse. You lack control."

"And you lack real compassion," Danny retorted, eyeing his enemy. His throat was still raw. It hurt to talk. It hurt to talk about the accident. "I bet some people saw through your speeches. I bet they saw the real you."

"Did they?" Vlad asked. He hummed. "You weren't around for my speeches, pity. I don't know how you would know."

For the first time, Danny noticed the slight tremor in Vlad's hand as he raised his cigarette again. Funny. He hadn't remembered that being there before. Wait a minute.

Vlad didn't smoke either.

The older halfa stared beyond Danny, off into the distance of the buildings across the street. "Samantha was a lady. A true match for you. It's a real pity."

Panic overwhelmed Danny at the sound of Sam's name. Everything came back. His breath hitched. "Don't. Don't say her name." He hid his emotions with a sneer and a glare. "You didn't even know her."

"I knew her through you well enough." Vlad's voice stayed smooth, borderline regretful. Then he waved off Danny's response with a flick of his cigarette. "Now go. I'm in no mood to fight you today, Daniel. Go back to your family for comfort and hugs. Let your mother know you are alright." A hint of a smile lifted the sharp muscles of his face. "And come back to me when you need real understanding."

The mayor of the town threw his cigarette onto the ground and mashed it dead with his shoe. Then he raised his martini glass in a mocking toast and walked around the limo to the side door of the city building.

For some strange reason, Danny felt all of his hatred and frustration for the man bleed out of him. He felt numb as he watched Vlad disappear behind the door.

The wind picked up and ruffled Danny's clothes, also catching on his face with a coolness he hadn't expected. He raised his hand in fear and ran it along the side of his face in consternation. Tears.

He hadn't even known he'd been crying.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Ooh, Vlad just wrote himself in. I swear, I was actually going to begin the final arc of this story, and bam. Hello, plot complication and one really twisted dude with a cigarette and martini. I do really enjoy writing Vlad. He makes me feel sophisticated and witty when I'm writing him. _

_So…anyone have any ideas as to what will happen now that Vlad is in the mix? Anyone have any ideas at all for me? _

_This is my New Years gift to you guys, since I left my notes for Chained and Theoretically Illogical back at my college. I hope you can live with an update from this story! _

_Thanks to: _**ShadowDragon357, Guest, MsFrizzle, Word Doc, **_and_** NeoRetro10K **_for reviewing! And thanks again to __**NeoRetro10K**__ for the super awesome title card that is now the image for this story! (This is my first fanart, I'm soooo excited! I feel loved!)_

_Thanks for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

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><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 12**

* * *

><p>Every fiber in Danny's body strained against the thought of home, especially now that he knew he'd worried his parents. They'd filed a missing persons report? Really?<p>

He eventually decided that, despite his immense dislike of admitting so, Vlad was right. He just hoped that maybe no one would notice his bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes.

When he walked through the front door, gently trying to shut it behind him, he expected some sort of strange surprise party. Maybe a couple of cops hanging around with clipboards and walkie-talkies. But instead, all he received was a slight hum of machinery, as well as the sound of someone working in the kitchen.

With a shaky inhale, Danny moved deeper into his home, feeling more like a stranger to the walls than he did a regular inhabitant. He didn't want to be here.

But he knew he needed to be. And so he trudged forward.

Maddie, who was diligently stirring something in a bowl, turned around at the sound of footsteps. Then the bowl slipped through her fingers. Flour billowed up into a white halo around her. "Danny?" she whispered, eyes widening.

He paused at the threshold between the living room and kitchen, staring at his mother's haggard appearance, the new lines in her face. Words choked in his throat. What could he say? _Hi, mom, sorry to make you call police I'm a failure I didn't mean to make you worry I'm sorry. _He swallowed hard, eyes blurring with tears.

The mother's own eyes brightened with tears, every line of her body slacking in a sudden, bone-melting relief. "Oh, my boy!" She ran to him, arms open. "My baby!"

Danny embraced her automatically, wrapping his arms around her much smaller frame. He could feel the feebleness in her, which terrified him. What if she died soon too, in some way he'd never imagined?

"I was so worried," she said, voice shaking. She pulled away and laughed out a sob. "You're home!" She stared him in the eyes with a thousand questions, but she did not ask them. Perhaps she already knew the answers. Instead, the mother allowed silence as she stroked her son's face as if to prove he were truly before her. "You're home!"

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Hey," he managed to say, a weak smile twitching his lips up. The tears that blurred his vision distorted the image of his mother into something unworldly.

He thought he'd cried enough. But he was so tired of everything, he could barely even stand as he stared at the pain he'd unknowingly inflicted upon his mother.

* * *

><p>His family did not how to react to him. After the initial reunion with hugs and kisses and call to the police to call off the missing person search, the Fentons noticed a fundamental change in Danny. He detached from them as if in a dream, creating masks at will to indulge some obligatory sense of emotion. He'd smile at them, but he really wouldn't.<p>

Jack tried to interest his son in some of his new ghost technology as a distraction, and instead of nervously pleading with excuses, Danny gave a listless half-twitch of a nod and smiled. Jack stared at the boy in concern, eyeing the way Danny's shoulders had bowed in on themselves and his pale skin had sunken in. He hardly looked like a Fenton at all. More like a ghost.

The father could not hope to understand this new side of his son, so he babbled on about quantum ghost generators and metaphysics, and Danny nodded. The perpetual drum of Jack's bombastic voice covered up reality.

A few days passed in this manner, and everyone tiptoed around it.

By the time that Jazz had Danny cornered in the living room one evening, with Maddie and Jack off to bed, the boy had fallen even deeper into himself.

"Danny, I'm worried," Jazz said, sitting him down on the couch. "You told me you'd come back, and I know I let you go. But you're not getting any better like you said you would." Her teal eyes pierced his.

Some spark of his old self flamed back into his face. "You think I'd get better in a couple of days?" he scoffed.

Jazz sputtered. "Well, of course not. The stages of grief state that-"

"-I know what the stages of grief are," he said. "And I don't care anymore." He leaned his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands. "I just…can't. Because if I do…" he trailed off.

His older sister placed a tentative hand on his back. "You've been very strong. All this time, you've been strong so that we wouldn't worry about you." She felt him tremble beneath her touch. "But you don't have to be strong now. It's okay to open up, you know? They say talking helps to get it out of you."

Danny curled away from her. "You think this is…something I can get out of me?" He tried to laugh. It sounded hoarse and worn. "You have no idea. You have _no_ idea what this feels like. Everything I do just makes everything else worse."

She bit her lip. "It's hard when we lose-"

"-Dammit, Jazz!" he pulled away from her, blue eyes flashing. "I'm not some lab rat for you to test your voodoo skills on!" He swallowed hard. "Just stop."

"I'm trying to understand," she said, looking at him with wide eyes.

But when he looked at his older sister, he saw the solid lines of her shoulders and the unbroken pride in her spine.

"You can't understand." His fists clenched. He opened his mouth to say more, but then he shook his head. "You won't understand what it's like to lose someone."

She eyed him with mounting concern. "Danny, it's really unhealthy to keep this to yourself."

"Yeah, well, it's unhealthy to be me." He felt multiple words sting at the tip of his tongue as he grew angrier and angrier.

"Come on, just-"

"Go away, Jazz."

She pursed her lips. "No."

He set his jaw. "Fine. Then I will." He stood up and moved towards the front door, but Jazz grabbed his arm. He turned around, irritation darkening his expression.

Real fear echoed in Jazz's eyes this time. "Danny, don't go. I'm serious here. Don't leave again, please." She inhaled shakily. "We need you here."

The siblings held gazes for a time. Danny's face softened only a bit as he shrugged away from her grasp. "I just need some air," he eventually said, suppressing his anger. He turned away before Jazz could grab for him again or plead for him to stay.

And as he walked out, all he could hear was Jazz's sigh and the rustle of couch cushions. He imagined she was placing her head in her hands, eyeing a picture of the two of them on the fireplace mantle.

He sat on the steps in front of the door, gazing up at the night sky in silence. He felt strangely detached from himself as he wrapped his arms around his legs.

For a time, he tried to think of nothing. It didn't work out.

"Oh, Sam," he breathed. He closed his eyes, conjuring up her image. Pain tore from his chest into his collarbones and spine, doubling him over even further. The mental agony he'd been repressing for days unleashed on him with a vengeance. Even her name hurt.

"Make it stop," he begged her, wherever she was. "Please. I can't keep doing this. I can't…" His breath hitched. "I don't know how to make it stop."

His mother believed he would break at even the slightest mention of the train wreck and Sam, and so she'd resorted to playing the overly concerned helicopter mom, watching his every move and desperately steering him away from dangerous conversations. His father believed he just needed a good project to empty out his energy and thoughts into, and so he'd resorted to asking for Danny's help with every little invention, babbling on about fudge and ghosts in the meanwhile. And Jazz…she'd resorted to her irritating psychology mask, completely trying to undo every wall Danny had built to protect himself.

He didn't want to hurt his family, but he couldn't breath around them anymore. He knew it would come to this. No one really understood, and so no one could really help him.

For a long time, he simply sat in the darkness, warring with himself.

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jazz."

Then he moved.

* * *

><p>Vlad sat in a plush chair before the fireplace, sipping on a cup of Earl Grey tea. His worn features reflected dark shadows from the fire. His troubled thoughts had kept him up for hours, sitting there, staring into nothing while his town mourned and his Ghost Portal rusted.<p>

But when he felt his ghost sense fire off, he knew exactly who had come to visit, and his spine straightened into his typical, professional façade. Danny Phantom materialized before him with a hard stare.

"Ah, Daniel," he greeted. "What a surprise. I was hoping you-"

"-Shut up," the younger man said. His green eyes shifted uneasily as he scanned the room. His voice was still hoarse, his eyes still bloodshot with tears and insomnia. "I'm done with bullshit, and I think we both know why I'm here."

Vlad narrowed his eyes a fraction, but he said lightly, "My, my. I doubt your fallen lady would approve of your behavior, Daniel, honestly. Is this how you treat people who open up their home to you?"

Danny swallowed back all of his typical insults. He thought back to his own family and winced. They'd wonder where he went again.

The older man continued, "Nevertheless, I am pleased to see you." A glint shined in his eyes. "Come to renounce your idiot father?"

Something about the lilt in Vlad's voice recalled old, familiar conversations. He eyed the man with the strangest mixture of surprise and irritation. Although a spark of his old self nearly crossed his features, a frown quickly took its place. "I said no bullshit, Vlad."

Vlad's lips twitched. "It was worth a shot, my boy." He set his teacup aside. He certainly did not want it broken, should the conversation escalate to violence as it so often did. "Now, what do you want?"

The boy hesitated and remained silent for some time. Every line in his defeated body struggled with what little pride it had left.

Vlad remained silent as well, hands clasped together in patience.

Danny swallowed, then transformed back into his human form. "I didn't come to fight," he said.

Some part of Vlad relaxed back in his chair, almost in relief. "I can see that."

Danny tried to speak again, but words stuck in his throat. "I need to know…how did you make it stop?"

Vlad's head tilted. "How did I make what stop, Daniel?"

The boy huffed. "You know what I mean! The feeling. The pain. When you lose someone, I mean." He shifted uneasily. "You said to come to you…when I wanted real understanding."

"I suppose I did say that," he replied, maintaining a neutral tone. It would do no good to unsettle the boy too much.

"So," Danny's voice cracked, "how? How did you make it stop?"

For a time, Vlad remained silent, the dry amusement in his expression melting away into pensive thought. He glanced away from the boy before him. "I will be honest with you," he said, voice even. "I didn't."

And for a moment, Danny felt something cold overwhelm him. The promise of no salvation sunk within him, affirming the deep fear he'd always known.

The two half-ghosts sat in silence.

Then Danny's fists clenched. He was glancing down at the floor, and the shadows of the room hid his face. "No," he said. "There's gotta be something."

Vlad frowned. "I admit, I found very convenient distractions, but I would be lying if I said that I made my love for Maddie…stop." He paused at the thought of it, a bitter smile on his face. "At least you will never witness the love of your life age in the arms of an idiot."

Danny looked up suddenly, and Vlad was taken aback at the sudden sight of the tears that swam in the boy's eyes. "There _has_ to be something to make it stop. Anything."

The older man made no move to comfort Danny. But he didn't laugh either. Instead, he asked, "…Does your family know you're here?"

Danny turned away. "I've tried everything," he said, voice unsteady. "I went to Clockwork. I tried to turn back time. I looked for her everywhere. I searched in the Ghost Zone at night. I went to Desiree. Nothing."

"Danny," Vlad stressed, raising a brow. "Does your family know you're here?"

"Is this it?" he continued on, not even hearing Vlad's question. Tears burned his eyes. "That I…I'm just gonna have to live like this for the rest of my life? My afterlife, if I have one?"

"My boy, you-"

"-Because I don't think I can stand this," he admitted, staring straight at Vlad with an expression so broken that all the remaining pride in his shoulders fell away. "I can't do it anymore. It hurts. I don't know what to do, and I don't know how much longer I can hold on, and-"

Vlad stood up, his blue eyes wide with concern and fear. "-Daniel, you need to calm down."

The boy cried out, "Calm down?" His laugh was nearly hysteric. "How? How can I possibly calm down when I'm falling apart?!" He grabbed locks of his own hair and crunched it between his fingers as he collapsed in on himself to the floor. Sobs overcame him in quick, stilted inhales. "I've tried everything! I…c-can't. I can't do it, Vlad. Not anymore."

The older man moved, hand out, as if to reach for the boy, to provide some sort of comfort. But he quickly forced his hand back down to his side in hesitance, standing awkwardly between his chair and the remains of the boy he once knew as his rival. He straightened the lapels on his jacket with shaking fingers. He coughed and cleared his throat. "It doesn't get better, Daniel," he said finally. "You would do well to simply acknowledge your pain and use your energy toward a more beneficial end. Something lucrative, perhaps."

The boy looked up, face streaked red with tears and anguish. Betrayal dripped from every line in his body. "You said…" he swallowed. "You said you could help me."

"Don't look at me that way," Vlad admonished. "What did you expect of me? That I would somehow have a key to bring the dead back to life? That I'd give you words of comfort that we both know are lies? No, Daniel. You can fool anyone in the world, but you should _never_ fool yourself. Samantha is not coming back to life, and you still have a life to live. You need to wake up to reality. Do you understand me?"

Danny gave no reply, nor did he make a move to get up or disappear. He sat on the cold stone floor, resting his head on his arms. He did not bother to hide his face, which he'd turned towards the fireplace to watch the flames. It no longer mattered if Vlad believed him weak or saw him cry.

Something rang true in Vlad's words, unburdening Danny from the possibilities and the potentials. Sam wasn't coming back. She wasn't coming back. He wasn't fooling himself.

This was the way of the world.

Vlad closed his eyes as he wavered between apathy and concern for the unmoving boy. "Oh, for heaven's sake," he breathed. He opened his eyes with sigh. "At least answer me. You're hardly above the temper tantrums of a child now. The truth hurts, but you know as well as I that you need it."

But Danny did not respond to the jab. Vlad snapped his fingers to grab Danny's attention, and still nothing. Had the boy gone catatonic?

Vlad suddenly feared he had, as only the crackle of the fire between the two halfas filled the space and silence. He eyed the younger man he had considered his enemy and watched the way Danny's body shook with barely-hidden sobs.

Flashes of old memories, of his twenty-year-old self throwing picture frames up in the air and blasting them into obliteration, forced Vlad to hold his tongue from further insulting his rival.

Empathy was a horrible burden for a villain to bear.

With a suffering sigh, Vlad moved towards one of the couches. His footsteps echoed off of the great walls of the mansion, followed by the soft rustle of cloth.

"Here." Danny flinched when a shadow moved beside him, awakening him out of his thoughts. He turned his head and realized it was a thick blanket that Vlad had placed beside him on the floor.

"I'll call your parents in the morning to tell them you'll be spending some time here," Vlad said, straightening with a sniff. He walked away and picked up his tea cup, calling over his shoulder, "And when you stop pouting on the floor, I suppose you can take one of the guest rooms on this floor."

He paused at the foot of the grand staircase. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Out of the corner of his eye, Vlad caught Danny's nearly imperceptible nod.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**__: Wow, what a long chapter. I struggled a bit with Vlad and Danny here, as much as I love writing them. I think they have such great potential to be almost a father-son duo, if motivated for proper reasons that don't include world domination. The problem is now Danny is the mentally unstable one, which is quite a wrench to throw into their typically cookie-cutter conversations. And Vlad isn't exactly fatherly material. Still, I imagine that Vlad may have a more significant role in this story than I first anticipated…_

_Good news! I now have two jobs in which I write and edit technical works all day long. This is both a blessing and a curse, as that means I'm very tired all the time, haha. But it feels good to have jobs within my field, and only within weeks of graduating college! It looks like things are finally starting to come together. It's been a wild ride. And now that my real life has calmed a bit, I've actually been looking at my chapter outlines for other stories like Chained and Theoretically Illogical. _

_I just want to thank you guys again for all your support. It means a lot to me! So thank you to __**ShadowDragon357, MsFrizzle, The-Lost-Wanderer-07, Guest, too enigmatic 2 b urs**__, and __**DannyPhantom619**__ for reviewing this past round. Really appreciated all of your ideas, praises, and comments! If anyone ever has a suggestion for this story, I'd love to hear your thoughts! _

_Thank you for reading, _

_Lightning Streak_


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_I've been meaning to get this chapter out for so long. Thanks all for your support! I hope you like this chapter. We're winding into the final arc. _

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 13**

* * *

><p>When Vlad walked down the staircase early the next morning, he glanced over by the fireplace, half-expecting Daniel to still be sitting on the floor and staring into nothing. Perhaps the blanket beside him would be completely untouched.<p>

But the floor tiles before the fireplace were empty, and the blanket was gone. Vlad narrowed his eyes in surprise, stepping off the velvet green stairs with a bit more hesitancy than before. He turned down the hall to the guest bedroom, only to see the door slightly ajar as it was last night. "Daniel?" Vlad called out, his baritone voice echoing in the silence. He cautiously peered inside the room. But the bed was still untouched, with not even a wrinkle in the duvet.

Vlad's eyebrows furrowed.

He stopped short.

There, lounging against the kitchen bar in broken angles, rested the prodigal son. Untouched bottles of alcohol rested on the counter before him.

Vlad raised a brow. "It's quite a bit early for that, is it not?"

Danny slide his bloodshot eyes over to gauge Vlad's reaction. Then he turned back to the rows of chardonnays, cabernets, and various other wines and expensive champagnes. "You have a lot," he said, voice toneless.

Vlad stood on the other side of the counter. "I suppose I do. I enjoy collecting them."

"Looks like you've done a lot more than collect them."

The world outside rumbled with thunder. It was still dark enough that the storm clouds blended in with the dark sky.

"Daniel," the older man said, rubbing his temples, "This behavior is increasingly unhealthy. You can think about drinking your problems away, but I guarantee it will not help you."

He moved to set his hand on Danny's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

Lightning flashed. And then something happened.

Thunder pounded throughout the house in a trembling roar. For a blitz of a second, Danny's vision darkened into blindness. He thought he saw numbers run across his vision, the sound of hydraulics—a strange hum—in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, Vlad's fingers turned to zeroes and ones. The strange sight overwhelmed him in panic. He jerked away, nearly falling over his own chair.

"My," Vlad said mildly, pulling away, "what a storm."

Danny stared at him in fear. "What the-?"

"-It's just a bit of thunder," Vlad said, completely unaware. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Danny tried to blink. The corners of his vision still blurred. "I just saw…n-numbers," he whispered. "Like…a code."

The older man gave him a curious look. "Daniel, are you alright? I did not think you to be actually afraid of storms."

Danny stared deep into Vlad's face, looking for a break in the illusion. "You were _numbers_," he said. "They were everywhere. And a humming noise."

Vlad backed away, eying him strangely. "Are you alright? There are no numbers anywhere."

"But I saw—"

"—You're speaking as though you've lost your mind. Listen to me, you're just struggling under—"

"—It was a code," Danny interrupted. He quickly stood up in horror. "Oh my God, this is all a code. Virtual graphics. This isn't real. None of this is real."

Something between absolute joy and hatred flickered in his face. "What have you _done_, Vlad?" Rings stormed down his body. Green eyes glared in frightful hope.

Then he spiraled up, turning intangible.

"Danny, wait!" Vlad's voice called after him.

He flew down to Vlad's lab and stormed through the Ghost Portal into the Zone. He was a bit disoriented by the switch in location, but he quickly discovered exactly how to get to Clockwork's Tower.

In the back of his mind, he could still see those numbers and symbols.

* * *

><p>When he found the tower, he barreled through as little more than a spark of light. He landed hard on the floor, feet nearly sinking in.<p>

"Hello, Daniel," Clockwork said mildly. He was fixing a clock on his workbench. "And before you start with me, you're wrong. This is all very real. You're descending into madness."

For the first time, anger against his own mentor fractured his control. He snarled and grabbed Clockwork by the throat, who quickly shifted into his adult form. "You're lying!" Danny cried desperately. "I saw it. I know you know it. When the lightning hit, everything I could see lost its graphics. I saw numbers beneath. This is just some elaborate code, a program."

Clockwork, though he did not struggle, clenched his fists. "You are hallucinating."

"No, I'm not. I saw it, Clockwork." He released his fingers from the ghost's throat, quickly pulling away. "Don't play games…" he trailed off, "…with me…."

"Are you really suggesting that—?"

"-You're not real either," Danny realized, eyes clearing with truth. He felt like brilliant sunlight was bursting from his skin. "If you were real, you'd know what was really happening. You're just part of the program too, which means…"

He didn't dare to hope. "Sam could still be…"

Clockwork raised a brow, deeply concerned. He rubbed his throat. "I wouldn't walk down that path. It doesn't exist."

Danny cried out, "What do I have to do to stop the program? How do I get out? Is Nocturne doing this somehow? Is it Vlad?"

The ghost raised his hands, as if to show how little he wished to fight. "Daniel," he said slowly, "I can assure you that whatever you saw was a trick of your mind."

"No!" Danny's voice rang out in a shattering cry. His eyes flashed with anger, and he charged. "Stop it! I know you can stop it!"

Clockwork ducked his head, narrowly avoided Danny's fists and blasts. "Daniel!" he scolded. "Calm down! Stop this right now!"

"No!"

"This is reality!" Clockwork tried to explain. His voice strained with uncharacteristic stress and pain. "There is only _one_ reality."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, "but it's not this one." In a sudden fire of inspiration, he grabbed onto Clockwork's scepter, which rested alongside one of the walls. "And I think this is my way out!"

Clockwork's eyes widened. His hands sparked with green energy. "No!"

Before the ghost could stop him, Danny smashed the scepter again and again into the concrete floor.

Clockwork's body fizzled into graphics and pixels. Time slowed down, and the edges of his vision tore like paper, revealing the blackness behind it.

* * *

><p>As the world twisted and recalibrated, Sam's face fizzled into pixilation in Danny's mind. The train crash exploded behind his eyes. Vlad's voice echoed.<p>

Then it all stopped.

Danny gasped, eyes snapping open, heart racing. His blue eyes were hazy, blurry, and he couldn't see. Everything was black before him, but he could feel the close, oppressive walls that surrounded him on all sides. Hydraulics hissed around him in low drones.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

He instinctively jerked his body, only to discover his arms and legs were bound to the table beneath him with thick, leather buckles. Wires ran across his body. He tried to phase through, but it shocked him.

Panic rose within him. "Wha-?" his scratchy voice echoed dully within the capsule, and his dusty vocal chords hurt, as if he had not spoken in a long time.

He felt like he'd been underwater for ages, only to suddenly realize the direction of the surface and break free. Sweat dripped from his temples.

He arched his back, grimacing as his muscles strained against the buckles. Panic stormed through him. He was trapped in something complex, something meant to keep him contained.

He pounded on the box.

Upstairs, Vlad's teacup shook on the table.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:**__ Dun dun dun!_

_Thank you __**DannyPhantom619**__, __**MsFrizzle**__, __**too enigmatic 2 b urs**__, and __**sammonsonrepilica**__ for reviewing last chapter. I appreciate it! :)_

_Please Review!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP._

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 14**

* * *

><p>Danny stilled, breathing hard. The more he tried to fight the strange device, the harder his heart pounded, the tighter the bonds felt, the more suffocating the capsule became. He tried to inhale a deep breath, but it turned shaky and shallow.<p>

"Come on," he whispered to himself, fearful. He closed his eyes to try and center himself. Unbidden tears slipped from his eyes. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. His rib cage shuddered in uneven gasps, the leather buckles tightening hard against him.

Now that his vision was adjusting to the darkness, he realized that small lights lined his body, blinking with electronic transfers. He was hooked up to something far more active than simple leather straps.

Then suddenly, thunder crashed around him. The lights and wires glowed strangely bright as bright as a star or a nuclear blast. Danny cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. Then something popped, and it whined down.

Danny trembled as he forced himself to go intangible, wincing as the wires still shocked him. He fell through wood and metal, and he felt his back slam hard onto cold tile, his arms flailing out. He hissed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut and curled up to hide the pain.

For a second, he heard nothing, felt nothing but agony. But then it began to subside. And when he opened his eyes, he saw shiny black shoes. The shoes were connected to Armani-clothed legs, which belonged to a very familiar face.

"Well," Vlad said. "It looks as if the storm kicked out the backup generators again."

"Vlad?" he gasped out, mind scattered.

The older man pulled out some kind of weapon. Its prongs glowed green, and Danny paused, watery eyes wide. The Plasmius Maximus.

Vlad leveled the weapon at him, right between at his heart. "You're going to get up," he said, voice pleasant, "and then you're going to go back into the capsule, or I will make you." Dark rings stormed over him as he transformed. Nightmare red eyes stared at him. "Do you understand me?"

Danny nearly fell back in his shaky attempt to gain some grounding. "Wha—what's going on?" he begged, voice hoarse. They looked to be in his mansion somewhere, not in the lab. The room was open and wide like a parlor room. His scrambled mind could not makes sense of anything. "What the _hell_?"

"It's for your own good, Daniel." Vlad's eyes stared at him levelly. "That's all you need to know."

"Know about what?" he grimaced as he held his head, which seared with a pulsing pain behind his eyes. He tried to clear his mind. "What did you do to me?" He felt as if he were wading in peanut butter, even as he struggled to stand. Vlad tracked his movements with the weapon tensely.

"The real question, boy, is what would you do to me if I were unarmed?" Vlad's voice was hard. "This is for my own protection."

Danny's hand grabbed onto the edge of the capsule, and he accidentally hit a button. The top hissed, then mechanically opened. It did not look entirely unlike a casket. "And what is this thing?"

"It's a new world," Vlad said, red eyes hard. "A better world—one that I put you in to _protect_ you too."

"From what?" he demanded, eyes wide as he stared down the prongs of the Plasmius Maxmius.

"From this reality," Vlad said. His voice saddened. "The injustice of it. The madness it sparked in you."

_What the—?_

Suddenly, a train wreck collided with Danny's fragile memory. His mind blitzed with images of a dead, broken Sam. He looked away, confused and horrified. It all felt like a dream. "No," he breathed. "No, Sam is—was—dead." He lifted his eyes to Vlad's, something broken tearing open his relentless desperation. "Is she dead here?"

Vlad nodded. His eyes stared at Danny with deep fear and sadness. "You raged in your agony, Daniel. Do you not remember how you got here?"

Danny's mouth went dry. Some part of his mind remembered an alternate timeline that Clockwork had saved him from—all because Vlad had tried to help him get rid of human emotions. He had become a monster in his sadness over the death of his family. "I…raged?" he breathed unsteadily, struggling to follow. His mind raced.

The older man began to lower the Plasmius Maximus. "Yes," he said, still a bit guarded. "You did. You were in danger of tearing your family apart, so I offered to take you in for a bit. To recalibrate your mind."

He could remember none of this beyond what had happened in the strange simulation. "What did I do?" he asked, worried. "I need to know. And I deserve to know what you were doing to my mind in that…that thing."

Vlad sighed, and he hesitantly said, "Only if you can ensure that you will not react poorly."

Something about Vlad's words made Danny's mind blur with fear and shame. "I promise," he said desperately. "Just, please."

The old man set the weapon down with a heaviness like that of a wilting tree. "Daniel, I don't want to spiral you into another episode."

Danny did not want to think about what 'another episode' meant. He stared expectantly at Vlad, trying to center himself.

Vlad raised his hands helplessly and avoided Danny's question. "I feared the consequences of taking drastic measures to help you, so I engineered a simulation that would recreate reality—back to the train wreck. I wanted to give you the option of a second chance to learn. To understand. And if I saw in the simulation that you did not take it, then I could wipe the simulation and start again."

"Whoa, whoa, wait." Danny's mind raced. "Start again? As in more than once?" Vlad nodded. "How many times have you had to restart it?"

Vlad began to rub his temples. "I don't know," he said. "Only a couple. I think you were instinctively beginning to understand that rage would not resurrect Samantha." His lips tilted up. "The stages of grieving, you know."

"So how long have I been there, then?" Danny asked, voice raising in dread. "Vlad, how long? Does my family know about this? Did they agree to this?"

"Your family agreed that you needed help," Vlad said, keeping his voice level and calm to avoid Danny's anger. "So I offered—with my resources, I could afford it. You have been here for six weeks."

He blinked, and tears began to blur his vision. "Six weeks?" he repeated dumbly. His voice broke. "You mean I've been stuck in that coffin for six _weeks_?"

"The hope was that you'd improve," Vlad said quickly. "That we'd re-write your…tendencies of anger and depression. I tried to keep the simulation as close to reality as possible so that when you finally reached an equilibrium, we could integrate you back into this world with few problems. Maybe you wouldn't even know the difference." He nodded at Danny. "It was never intended as a prison. It was just a chance to offer you choices."

"Choices like what?"

Vlad smiled weakly. "I saw in the readouts that you interacted with a simulation of myself and Clockwork, and with non-violent brain functions. That was a choice you made, Daniel. Do you understand? You were making choices to reach out for the first time—and to begin healing."

He stared at Vlad in horror and understanding and fear and thankfulness. A thousand words tipped off the edge of his tongue, only for him to swallow them back. "Then why would you react so bad to me now?" he demanded, tilting his chin to the Plasmius Maximus. "If you're really just trying to help me?"

Vlad looked down. "This is not the first time the simulation has had hiccups. The few times you woke up, you were only half-coherent. You…immediately fell into some kind of emotional rage. I did what I had to." He looked back up at Danny. "But this is the first time our conversation has made it this far. Perhaps you have learned something in this last round."

Danny swallowed hard, feeling like a stranger within his own body. He remembered none of this, no conversations. Nothing.

But deep down, he knew he had always been a little too off-kilter to really control himself. That sometime, somewhere, he would come unglued. Perhaps it had already happened.

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" he asked, voice small.

Vlad huffed at him. "Despite what you think, I do hold significant interest in your well-being. You are the only other being in this universe like me, and I will not allow you to self-destruct." He waved his hands at a room not too far away. "In there are the print readouts of your brain functions from the last six weeks, the newspapers documenting the wreck of T-89, and even a few voicemails from your mother checking on your status. I may have a few other items worth your attention. You can browse through, I don't mind." Then Vlad eyed him. "As long as you remain sane. Or I _will_ put you back in the simulation."

Danny inhaled shakily. This was too much. He stood there dumbly, half-afraid of his own strong hands. This body of his was six weeks older than he remembered it being. These hands had…wait a minute. "What exactly," he began, voice halted, "did I do? After the w-wreck?"

Vlad closed his eyes and turned away. "Do not concern yourself with that."

That specific wording broke something inside of him. "Vlad, please. Tell me."

"I'd rather not," he said slowly.

"I need to know." Danny blinked back tears. "I don't know what's going on and I just—"

"—No," Vlad said, this time a bit harder.

Something strange twitched in Danny's face. "Tell me," he begged, his voice raising into hysterics. "Dammit, Vlad! Tell me! I need to know! I—!"

"—You really want to know? Do you?" the man said shortly, almost out of fear of what would happen if he continued to disagree. "You destroyed an entire city block. You unleashed one of those ghastly Wails of yours. There was hardly anything left of the train. A few emergency workers were killed, many injured. Families didn't have bodies to bury."

Cold water stormed through Danny. "No," he said, shaking his head. He back stepped. "No, I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't!"

Horror overwhelmed him. He thought about the idea that he had indirectly killed people. Danny Phantom had killed people.

Vlad began to noticed Danny's increasing agitation. "I will put you back in the simulation," he said slowly, "if you cannot yet handle this information. I knew it was better if you did not know."

Danny feared going back. "No!" he nearly begged, blue eyes wide. "No, I can handle it. I can. I—" Tears began to slip down his cheeks, and his breath hitched. "I…"

He looked to the man with utter hopelessness, unable to even speak. He did not move to attack as he had supposedly done in unremembered pasts. Instead, he stood as a broken man. "They must hate me," he realized, breathing harder. "Amity Park. My parents."

The older ghost eyed him. "If it helps," he said hesitantly, "the reports say that Danny Phantom went mad with grief, not anger or power. I managed to leverage a compromise in which the people would not employ the Guys in White to hunt you. Instead, they are operating under orders to avoid you at all costs. You just need to stay out of sight for a while."

Danny stared at Vlad, speechless and terrified. His breaths became more and more shaky. "I wouldn't. I couldn't have—" He began hyperventilating. "I didn't. Vlad, I didn't."

"It was an accident, Daniel," he said softly. "In every way." He very hesitantly rested his hand on Danny's shoulder. "You were screaming when you found her."

The mention of Sam tore out the last of his emotional control.

Danny leaned against him and cried, voice strangling with something between a cry and a sob, resting his forehead on Vlad's shoulder. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no…"

Vlad stiffened at the contact. But, very slowly, he patted the boy on the back. And instead of sneering or side-tracking into demands and taunts, Vlad allowed Danny to cry on his shoulder. The boy held onto him as if he were the only light in infinite, drowning darkness.

"You know, you could go back," Vlad said softly. "You would remember none of this, in the simulation. This past would not exist."

Terror stormed through him. "No," he begged. "No, I can't." He would have to relive Sam's death again, even though he wouldn't know it. Now that he was fully aware, he could not dare to imagine picking through the debris again, his gloved hands brushing against dismembered bodies or the ruined, crackled black that was once Sam's face. The knowledge of it—of what his own memory-wiped self would face—he couldn't do it again.

Vlad gave him a pained look. "We cannot turn back time, Daniel. Not even Clockwork can. We can only rewrite your memories. And would that be so bad? To awaken from the simulation without pain or fear?"

He pulled away, watery eyes confused. "But that wouldn't fix…I mean, Amity Park would still be—_Sam _would still be…"

"But you wouldn't remember it as it happened here. Upon successfully completing the whole simulation, your mind would only register the actions you took in that world, do you understand? We'd take care of everything else. We would protect you."

Danny grimaced. The idea that he would be living a lie did not sit well with him, but it was tempting enough. To just…forget.

Could he do it? Would he?

He gazed up at the older man in misery. "Why would _you_ even try to protect me?" he asked, haggard. "Why help?"

Vlad paused. "You may not understand this yet," he struggled to admit, his eyes vulnerable and sad, "but I've lived under such burdens, Daniel. Such burdens. And I am very, very worried that your struggles with the same things will result in...very large tragedies."

Because without Sam, without the love or respect of Amity Park, without mental stability, Danny was slated to become something far worse than Vlad could ever be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _If you have time, please review with your thoughts and ideas. _


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_I'm not sure why I haven't done this with Quantum Paradox consistently but: Thanks to Korradelion, ShadowDragon357, DannyPhentom, too enigmatic 2 b urs, MsFrizzle, sammansonrepilica, and The-Lost-Wanderer-07 for reviewing last chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 15**

* * *

><p>Sometime later, Danny glanced about the small office space that housed the simulation readouts. He looked at the graphs of his own brain functions. They did not provide any specific detail of his exact thoughts, but he could track through the graphs his level of emotional stress. The first graphs were the worst, blitzing nearly off the charts. The latest graph, printed off at the end of the day yesterday, showed a more consistent pattern.<p>

The nearby newspapers mourned the "Manson Heiress," about whom only Tucker could provide significant detail. The stories were short and clipped. Tucker didn't even sound like himself, but instead like some robot repeating the basic obituary template for every dead person. Samantha was a wonderful person who cared a lot about others and the world. Samantha would be missed. The writer added that Samantha would be survived only by her parents.

Danny then found a messy transcript, the heavy and looped handwriting distinctively Vlad's. He glanced over the words, surprised to recognize them as a speech of mourning—his mayoral speech to commemorate the event. The handwriting was a bit sloppy, as if it'd been written in a rushed or a stressed state of mind. The papers were crumpled, folded and unfolded, the left side matted from a sweaty palm. Danny blinked at the strange evidence that pointed to Vlad being somewhat…human.

"Who knew," he breathed.

Had Vlad been nervous? Outraged? Shocked?

He set the papers down, almost in a daze. A sleek answering machine on the desk showed three saved voice messages. He pushed the button in dark curiosity.

"Hi, Vlad. It's Maddie again. I know you said he was in simulation therapy this week, but I wanted to know more about his readouts. Is he doing okay? He hasn't accidentally hurt you again, has he? Is there anything I can do?" She sounded heartbroken. "Is he reacting any better at all this time? It's been almost a month."

Danny swallowed hard and pushed the button again. "Hi, Vlad. It's Maddie again. I really hate to bother you like this, I know you're busy, but I just wanted to check up on Danny. Please call me back with his stats. I'm worried about him. Jazz says he should have equalized out by now."

The last message was from his father. "Hey, V-man," his father's voice said. It sounded jolly, but it was greatly strained. "We got your readouts. Maddie's…not taking it well. We're gonna swing by sometime tomorrow to visit and maybe…see Danny? Can we do that without disrupting the simulation?"

"End of messages," said the feminine, mechanical voice of the answering machine.

Danny listened to the messages again, if only to hear his parent's voices. He raised the receiver of the phone to his ear, instinctively desiring to call them, to assure them that he was fine and that Vlad was strangely taking care of him.

But his fingers hesitated on the buttons. The thought of speaking with them felt like a stretching horizon—vast and empty. Did they even know what he really was? That he had killed innocent people?

Did they still hate Danny Phantom, or even know that he was Phantom?

But then Vlad popped his head in, blue eyes curious. "Daniel," he said, "what are you doing, moping in here? We have dinner ready." He seemed to lock in on the phone in Danny's hands. "Did I interrupt anything?"

The younger man blinked, then sighed. He set the receiver down. "No," he breathed softly. They wouldn't have understood anyway. Perhaps it would be good if he were to call when he was not so…what was he, anyway? Aside from just generally messed up and probably not even able to carry a conversation?

"My parents have waited weeks," Danny said slowly, "and I don't even know what to say to them."

Vlad raised a brow. "Is your own health not more important?" he asked. "I have kept your parents well aware of your condition, and you should not force yourself to do anything that would strain your mind."

Danny nodded, a bit listless and distant. He still looked shell-shocked by everything.

"Come eat dinner," Vlad said, trying to distract the boy. "Maybe that will make you feel better."

* * *

><p>A short while later found Danny sitting at a large mahogany table. Although the table spanned nearly the entirety of the long room, Vlad had chosen to sit opposite him for more amiable conversation.<p>

A small glass of wine had been set before him, and Danny stared at it suspiciously.

"You're certainly old enough now," Vlad said easily. "A little might make you feel more relaxed."

With a raised brow, Danny lifted the glass of red wine to his lips. It was bitter and thick, with the taste of turpentine. He nearly choked on it at first, but he wanted to feel himself forget things and be sedated and numb.

Or perhaps it was not that he would forgot—perhaps he would just not care. The alcohol could maybe deaden his nerves and emotions, and for the first time maybe he'd think back on Sam's burnt body without openly falling to pieces.

But then when he actually thought back to it, all of his emotions intensified. The promise of alcohol fell short. And in that moment, Danny felt very fragile, as if he could fall to pieces and melt out on the floor into nothingness. It was all he could do to keep his skin on, to not lose his mind entirely and wail again for reason after reason after reason.

His hands shook as he rested the wine glass against his lap. His voice was soft as he tried to keep himself together. "I'm a killer," he whispered in realization. The weight of lives lost in the balance hung heavy on his brain. "I killed people because I lost control."

He stared down into the wine glass and wished for death the way one would beg for heat in the middle of an ice age.

"To be a killer," Vlad said, "is to be fully aware that you are taking a life." He looked at Danny with almost a wry smile. "You, my boy, are incapable of being so…premeditated. You did not kill them. They were simply at the wrong place, wrong time."

"Who were they?" he begged Vlad, never looking up. "Their names?"

Vlad paused, setting down his sharp fork and knife. "I'm afraid I don't remember their names. Two women and a man."

Something pulled deep in Danny's heart, and he nearly choked. He thought about the horrible possibility that those people had families, spouses, lovers, children. That they would be mourned to the same extent he himself mourned Sam.

He set his wine glass back down on the table and hid his face in his hands, breathing shakily. "They were people," he said. "Real people."

"Yes," Vlad said slowly, "and so are you. Do not forget this in the wake of such events."

Danny breathed deeply, in and out. For a time he thought he was doing well. But then something overwhelmed him. His vision went red.

He cried out in a snarl of pain and anger, smacking his dinner plate nearly clear across the room. The priceless porcelain dish nearly hit Vlad and shattered to pieces against the wall behind him. Vlad flinched.

But it felt good to Danny. It was release of pain. The boy huffed in shaking cries for a time, grabbing his wine glass and throwing it against the wall as well. Blood-red alcohol splattered against the expensive wall paper. Glass shards stabbed into the wooden floor. Vlad simply grabbed his cup of tea and held it protectively as he watched Danny struggle with what appeared to be a tantrum. His eyes were deeply concerned.

The boy seemed to gather great satisfaction at the destruction. It was very…un-Danny-ish.

But then Danny blinked, and he seemed to come out of his strange tantrum. He stared at the empty place setting before him, then at the broken dishes on the floor, and then at the wall, where the blood-red wine still dripped.

Danny realized that a darkness was inside of him now—that the act of destruction made him forget the pain. He vaguely realized that he was walking down the same path that Clockwork had attempted to save him from. But in the moment, he just didn't care.

He laughed something strained and hoarse. "I'm a killer," he whispered. Something felt good about just admitting it. "A destroyer."

"….Daniel?" Vlad asked hesitantly. "Are you quite finished?"

Danny sunk into himself as he laughed, his laughs slowly turning into sobs. "No," his voice hitched. "It's gonna get worse. It's not gonna stop. I'm a killer." A small laugh tainted his tears. "It's really happening."

Vlad stood up from his chair, walking around the table to Danny's side. "Perhaps you just need sleep," he suggested. "You're exhausted and confused. Rest will help."

Danny did nothing. He simply sat in his plush red chair, hiding his face in his hands as he shook with sobs. "I just—I don't want to feel anymore," he admitted quietly. He was horrified with himself. He wanted exactly what would destroy him. "I want to forget everything. I don't want to be me."

The older man bit his lip and slowly reached out for Danny. "It's going to be alright, my boy." He patted Danny's stiff and quivering shoulder in some attempt to comfort him.

Human touch made Danny look up, eyes miserable and fearfully self-aware. In that instant, he saw his future, and the darkness of it terrified him. "You need to stop me," he whispered with a desperate voice. "Before it gets worse, by any means necessary. Got it?"

Vlad paused, mulling over the implications of Danny's request, then nodded. "Of course," he said softly. "We'll put you back in the simulator tomorrow."

Something about that broke Danny deep. He did not want to go back into the simulator for any reason to revisit Sam's death. But he also knew that something was very, very wrong with him. He felt loose and disjointed, his identity crumbling down.

Vlad helped him up off the chair, and Danny leaned on him hard. "Think of it this way," the older man said slowly. "This is the farthest you've gotten in weeks. You're improving."

The boy's breath hitched in disbelief. "This is improvement?"

The older man melted in fatherly affection, and he ruffled his charge's hair. "You always sweep from one emotional extreme to the other, but you've never been so aware of it. So yes, we'll get you put back together. Trust me."

"Can you promise it?" he said brokenly.

"Of course," Vlad said with an easy smile that did not reach his eyes. "Of course."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Gah, what is it with me and references to Dark Dan lately? It's like his presence has to invade all of my stories. O_o; Poor Danny's just getting more and more messed up, huh? The question is, will he overcome his own instability, or will he fall to it? This story is starting to gear towards its final arc. I think we probably have three or four chapters left, unless someone gives me an idea that inspires me to expand the plot. _

_Please leave a review with your thoughts/comments, and ideas! Thanks! _


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to ShadowDragon357, DannyPhantom619, The-Lost-Wanderer-07, Cookieplzandthnx, MsFrizzle, Tacolady22, and Mistress Soul for reviewing last chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 16**

* * *

><p>Danny began to realize that his evening would be the last night he'd spend in the real world for a while. Vlad had convinced him to try sleeping, but he'd rolled about restlessly for hours before he'd given up and simply stared out the window. There was a porch off of the window—he saw in surprise that it doubled as a door to the outside. He stood up from his bed and wandered towards it, grabbing his pants and shirt. He dressed himself quickly, stumbled himself into his shoes, and then unlocked the door.<p>

(When was the last time he'd been outside?)

The glass door creaked on its hinges, but the night air was cool, the porch inviting in the dark. There was a plush lawn chair and a small table beside it, and a part of him wondered in wry amusement at Vlad's wealth that allowed him to decorate an unused guest quarter to such a degree. Billionaires.

Nevertheless, Danny sat down on the chair and stared up at the sky. For the first time in a long while, he really stared at it. He breathed in the constellations and the rays of the moon. The younger part of him seemed to remember that for so long, he had built his whole meaning in life on the sky: he was going to be an astronaut. He was going to fly to the moon. He was going to impress Sam and show her that he wasn't just a dead beat, and then maybe she'd marry him after all and have a husband she'd be proud of. For a second or two, his childish awe and delight with the world returned. His mind reconnected old maps of the universe above him—a memory of himself cradling Sam within the frame of his body as he raised her hand to the sky, pointing her finger towards a constellation. She'd leaned back against him, narrowing her eyes to follow exactly where he was pointing her to see.

.

_"Still just looks like a bunch of dots to me," she murmured merrily, even as she tilted her head a bit, cradling herself deeper into the crook of his neck. _

_ He leaned his head against hers. His fingers suddenly intertwined with hers, and they stared at their raised hands now instead of the stars. _

_ "Everything looks like dots at first," he said. "But then after a while, you start seeing the lines of things." He ran his fingers down the back of her raised hand, down her wrist and her arm. Her skin goose bumped._

_Something about her smelled like the color purple—a lavender plant, a plush velvet. He couldn't get enough of it, and so he breathed her in deep as their stargazing became something more. His trailing hand slipped from her arm to caress the flat of her stomach, lightly bunching up the material of her shirt. "Then after you see the lines," he hummed, "you start sketching out the body." _

_This time, her fingers covered his. She closed her eyes in satisfaction at the heat that radiated from him. She whispered, "I like how you like stars." _

.

He faltered. NASA had shut down, and Sam was dead. The sky meant nothing now—without the proper equipment, even his ghost powers would not allow him to traverse into the outer atmospheres. And nothing could reverse the finality of Sam's broken and buried body.

The stars grew colder to him, the heat of his memories sputtering out. He still looked to them, wishing perhaps that old legends about them were true. Maybe the stars were spirits of the dead, the souls of all of his ancestors and their companions sweeping before him. Maybe Sam was up there, somewhere.

"I killed people, Sam," he whispered to her, searching for her. "I lost control, and I killed three people. Would you still love me if you knew?"

Danny waited for a response from the heavens, and none came. His fingers began to shake a bit. "I'm gonna go back into the simulator, and I'm gonna see you again, even though I know you're not real in there. If I don't go back, I think I'll hurt more people."

No answer again.

"I just…feel different," he whispered. "Without you."

He imagined Sam was probably the most distant star in the sky because she was a restless person and endlessly curious about death and dark things. Space would not terrify her, unlike how it would for most people. No—she was probably storming between galaxies right now, laughing at the others who remained safe in their constellations close to earth. She probably had one eye on him, but she was on adventures that could not be stopped, even for him.

He tried to think of her that way, and the darkness and anger within him stayed itself, if only for a bit. His need to scream out in agony gave way to a speechless form of understanding. Some part of Sam was conserved, he began to think. She knew he liked stars, so maybe she became one, just for him to see and pinpoint, to draw out her lines again and re-sketch her body.

Hours passed that way. He stared up at the sky, searching for the most distant stars he would dare to attribute to Sam. He began to wonder if maybe Sam was staring back at him, somewhere, delighted in his gaze even if she could not physically respond.

Eventually, his mental and physical exhaustion caught up to him. His eyelids began to flutter shut, and he relaxed against the plush chair. He drifted off, feeling the cool air brush against him as he thought of Sam watching him from the sky.

He was not alone. She was that distant star all by itself in the far quadrant, shining just bright enough for him to see her.

For the first time in weeks, Danny slept, entirely dreamless, his tantrums of insanity and pain mere tides.

* * *

><p>Early in the morning, shortly before sunrise, he awoke to the sound of a great rumble.<p>

His eyes snapped open. He stared around wildly, disoriented until he realized that he was on a private porch outside his room, and that the sound was a garbage truck driving down the road before him. The sky was clouded over in a shaded gray, the stars hidden behind them.

Danny relaxed a bit as he watched the garbage men pass by. He felt nothing in particular in relation to them—he was still recalibrating his mind to realize he was in fact awake. Then he watched the truck stop at the end of Vlad's gated driveway, and his eyes furrowed. It seemed so mundane that Vlad would still require people to pick up his trash, instead of incinerating it in some high-tech laboratory. But then he supposed Vlad was not quite concerned with carbon footprints. Like Sam would be.

In an attempt to distract himself from Sam, he looked to the garbage man who was faithfully doing his job. The worker—an older, scruffy man—looked to be struggling with the heavy bins. Danny felt a desperate need to redeem himself somehow (how many of Vlad's dishes did he break last night, anyways? What if Sam had seen his tantrum?), and so he jumped the iron fence surrounding the private porch. Then he straightened and stumbled forward into a run. "Here," he called out, "let me help you."

The worker turned a face lined with deep wrinkles to him as Danny approached the driveway, surprised. "I can't ask you to do that, son. Don't worry about me."

"But I want to help," the boy said, moving towards the trash bins.

The older man just shrugged, then grimaced as he lifted one of the open bins, trying to keep the trash from spilling over. "Well, suit yourself."

Danny knew that he could easily lift the bins without blinking. But as he readjusted his hands on the bin, papers slipped from the top to flutter to the ground in a strange flop.

He stood there for a second.

Embarrassment and shame rocked through him, along with anger. Could he not even carry garbage to a truck anymore? Was he really so useless to people?

With a huff, he set the bin down and leaned over to pick up the fallen papers. He grabbed a few of them, his fingers crunching deep into the frail fibers of the paper. Some sort of satisfaction sunk into him when the paper crumpled under his strength. It was a spark of his insanity coming back.

"I could always be a garbage man," he whispered sarcastically under his breath as he pushed the papers back into the bin. At least that would be a beneficial way to get his energy out, instead of destroying things not meant to be destroyed.

Danny Phantom the garbage man. Sounded better than 'the most evil ghost on the planet.'

The boy leaned down again to pick up the last of the mess. One of the remaining papers had been covered in coffee stains, as if something had spilled over it. He stood back up and stared at it in disgust, realizing that picking up trash without gloves was not the best idea.

He recognized it as a paper from the _Amity Gazette_. He caught something strange on the page—the word _Daniel_—just as he was moving to throw it back into the bin. Then he stopped and looked at it again.

The newspaper headline cried in block letters, _Rescue Missions Falter for Daniel Fenton._

Danny's eyes widened as he looked at the headline again. "What the—?"

He turned the newspaper towards the little light rising in the sky. Letters and words began to solidify further, the headline undeniable. Some of the article had been distorted by the coffee stain, but most of it was intact.

The article provided a small picture of him and a statement that he had been missing for several weeks. His mother and father provided statements about how loved he was. A quote from Sam revealed that—

"Wait a minute." It was beginning to soak in. He stared at the name. Sam. Sam. Sam. A quote from _Sam_. Missing persons.

The date on the newspaper was from yesterday.

A quote from Sam. Dated from yesterday. About one missing Daniel Fenton.

His entire mind stopped existing for a moment, in which he suddenly did not know up from down or black from white. He continued to stare at the paper as if he expected it to jump from his hands and laugh at him—perhaps warp into some sentient ghost.

But after an age or two, he realized the paper was simply paper. He was still Danny Fenton, who according to the paper was a missing person.

Nausea combed through him with slow fingers. He thought he was hallucinating, but everything felt too real. His heart began to skip beats. A searing pain tore through his head.

With a hitched breath, he turned around. His wide, blue eyes attempted to lock on the man who had come to collect the garbage. The old man had already emptied most of the bins, and he was walking back to collect the final one.

"Excuse me!" Danny called out, voice cracking with desperation. "Sir? Sir! Have you read this?"

The old man glanced over the paper and nodded. "Terrible thing," he said.

Danny realized with his pasty skin and grown hair, it was possible that he did not look like himself. It still meant someone was lying to him—either himself, Vlad, or this paper. He grabbed onto the paper like a lifeline, swallowing hard. It was probably the paper. He couldn't trust himself to know reality, and Vlad had been nothing but caring. Maybe the paper was a cruel joke a ghost was playing on him?

The boy stepped forward. The old man was not a ghost; he would be able to confirm something, perhaps. Tentatively, he asked a baited question: "D-did you lose anyone in the train crash?"

But instead of nodding as Danny expected, the old man gave him a concerned look. "Son, what train crash?"

Something dropped into his stomach. Tears welled in his eyes in great fear. "The train crash weeks ago," he repeated. His voice was wavering now. "T-89, bound for Chicago. The one Danny Phantom tried to help at but killed people."

The old man was beginning to give him strange looks, backing away as he picked up the final trash bin that Danny had failed to actually carry over to the truck. "Son, I don't know what newspaper you've been reading, but there hasn't been a train crash in Amity Park since the 1990s. And that ghost kid hasn't been around for weeks."

And then the old man continued with his job, leaving Danny to stand by himself, clutching the news article. He stared at the black and white photo of himself, in which his high school self was vibrant and happy and careless. Images of the simulation tank and Sam's burnt skin and Vlad's pained smiles all intermixed together on top of the headlines _Rescue Missions Falter for Daniel Fenton_. He stopped breathing, unable to hold it all in balance.

The garbage truck began to rumble along, down the road into the mists of the morning.

Danny's mind fragmented into shards.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Some of my favorite parts about writing this story have been exploring how characters justify or accept death, and how characters know what they know as fact or fiction. How do we know what's true or real? How do we know what's not true or not real? These were some of the underlying philosophical questions in the movie __**Source Code**__, which was the inspiration for this story. As always, I appreciate the thoughts and ideas that I receive in your reviews. I know some people suggested very different paths for this particular chapter, so I hope that you enjoy what I have written. I always love to read people's ideas for what could happen next, and I'm always up for listening to those ideas. _

_Please leave me a review with your thoughts, predictions, questions, or requests! Thanks!_


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Korradelion, amiraphantom, WillowWeed, Mistress Soul, Savirox, Iblamepie, NeoRetro10K, MsFrizzle, too enigmatic 2 b urs, Magma42Storm22, Guest2, and sirenmergirl for reviewing!_

* * *

><p><strong>Quantum Paradox<strong>

**Chapter 17**

* * *

><p>Vladimir Masters had just woken up and was pleasantly waiting for a tea kettle to brew his morning tea. The night had been silent and peaceful. It was the first time he had not heard Danny sob or wander about like a wraith through all hours of the early morning.<p>

That boy, honestly. He was so emotional at times that Vlad worried if perhaps Danny were too unstable to function. That perhaps all of his investments were for naught. That perhaps Danny's course could not be changed from one of self-destruction.

But as the older man sat at the counter of his large kitchen island, he heard a large racket. _Crash_. He turned around, blue eyes narrowing in paranoia. "What the—?"

Suddenly, a dark shadow blurred into the room. Cold fingers grabbed his throat and forced him down against the counter. It all happened so fast, that it took Vlad several seconds to realize his attacker was Danny Phantom.

"_You_," Danny breathed. His green eyes flared in hatred, his entire face twisted and pale. He looked feverish. He squeezed Vlad's neck tighter.

The older man gasped, grabbing onto Danny's arms. "D-Daniel," he pleaded. His voice was strangled, eyes bulging in surprise. "What—are—?"

"It's all a lie, isn't it?" Danny demanded, snarling. With his free hand, he shoved a coffee-stained newspaper into Vlad's face. "Everything—the train, the dead people. It was just a chess game of yours, wasn't it?!"

Vlad's bulging eyes widened even larger in panic at the picture of the smiling Danny Fenton. Horror paled his face.

The younger half-ghost released Vlad, who immediately collapsed in a dead weight against the counter, black rings flying over his vulnerable body. "Why?" Danny demanded, voice halted and strained with tears. His shattered mind could barely gather itself together. "Why did you trick me?"

Vlad reached out to him, still gasping hard. "You don't understand—"

The boy flinched away. "No," he cried. "You told me she was dead. You said I _killed _people!" He looked utterly betrayed. "I thought you were trying to help me, but you were the one who made me insane."

Before Vlad could respond, Danny pushed harder. "It says I've been missing for months. Don't try to get out of this." His shoulders hitched in a sob. "I know you lied to me."

The older ghost's red irises stared at the fallen newspaper, then at the furious boy before him. "Well, well," he joked, voice still weak from being strangled. He knew denial was pointless. "And here I thought you didn't read."

Danny stood his ground, even though he felt unsteady and ill. "Tell me what's going on. Tell me the truth."

"I…you must believe me. I only had good intentions," Vlad said breathlessly, still trying to recalibrate from being strangled. "I wanted to disillusion you to the truth that life hurts! That you always lose what you love most!"

The boy's eyes narrowed in confusion and pain. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

With a grimace, the older man stood a bit taller and adjusted his collar and cape. "My boy," he said. "It's only a matter of time before you realize that I've done this to protect you."

Danny swallowed hard. "You don't care about me." His breath hitched. "You don't want to protect me. You want me out of the way so you can do whatever you want."

"I want you _by my side_," Vlad said, voice hardening with pain. "You're Maddie's son. You're the only one who could possibly carry on my legacies."

"So what?" Danny cried. "Just cause I'm a half-ghost—you thought that would be a good idea to…to _kidnap_ me? Put me in your stupid simulation casket?"

"I did not kidnap you," Vlad spat. "And it's not a casket. It combines with your cerebral activity while allowing you to interact with memory and new information. It's a simulation designed to teach you the realities of the world—that you are just like me. Alone and hated, because of your own actions."

"I am nothing like you!" Danny snarled, tears running down his face. His voice hitched. The fact that his memories were still twisted and uncertain left him feeling defensive. "I'm not alone. I never was. And you_ did_ kidnap me; there's no way I would have willingly gone to you."

"Ah, but _you_ came to _me_," Vlad said.

"Why the hell would I come to you?"

Vlad waved off his concern. "Some nonsense about me being involved with a ghost plot or another." He stared hard at the boy. "I simply…detained you."

"That's _kidnapping_."

Vlad's eyes widened in innocence. "Daniel, I completely underst—"

Danny slammed Vlad against the wall, squeezing his neck. "—No!" he seethed, crying. "No, you don't! You don't understand! You think you have it bad? At least my mother is alive and happy! In your damn simulation, I was the one who cleaned up the wreckage. I was the one who pulled Sam's _dead _body from the rubble! I was the one who confirmed her identity at the morgue!" He was sobbing. "God, she was unrecognizable."

Vlad tried to speak. With his ghost strength, he attempted to shove Danny off. Danny was stronger, too overcome with emotion to be moved.

"I will never unsee your damn simulation!" the boy cried. "I have to live the rest of my life with images of S-Sam…in p-pieces and-" he inhaled sharply, shaking the memory away. It wasn't real.

"Is she alive?" Danny demanded suddenly, loosening his hold. "Is this the true reality?"

Vlad held onto his ruined throat, red eyes dark with pain and betrayal. "No matter the reality, your friends and family will always abandon you. It is inevitable."

An overwhelming hatred struck Danny. He raised his fists, fingers sparking with a power that far outweighed what Vlad could emit. It was nearly blinding. "Stop it!" he demanded. "Just stop!" He was nearly hysterical. "She's alive, isn't she?!"

Vlad's eyes widened, and his shaking fingers raised with his own power. "Daniel," he pleaded. "You must understand—Sam will die one day—you will descend into insanity again. Our own inhuman natures mean we will not pass to the next world with them—!"

"Shut up," Danny snarled. For a second, he truly wanted to kill this man—to rip his heart out, watch the body fall. These were dangerous thoughts. "We all have to die sometime. Even ghosts fade out. That's not a reason to kidnap me and twist my head around."

And despite everything Vlad had done to him, Danny's fingers hesitated to shoot. He stared at the bruises on the older man's neck and felt a strange pulse of guilt. The impulsive desire to kill was but a fleeting spark of anger.

He wasn't a monster. He hadn't killed. He wouldn't kill. Sam was alive.

And then he turned away, the light dying in his hands. Vlad's jaw set with pained sorrow, but he did not go after Danny.

"I'm gonna tell everyone what happened here," Danny said, voice still hitched with pain and anger. "Vlad Masters will be ruined, even if you disappear."

"Go ahead," Vlad said. His voice was dark with pain. "I have more than enough power to sidestep a ridiculous allegation from you."

Danny narrowed his watery, green eyes. And then he shot up into the air, turning invisible, leaving the older half-ghost to stand in the silence of his own insanity.

For a time, the billionaire did not move. A great sadness overcome him that bowed his shoulders and made him sigh.

"You will understand one day," he said, turning away to begin planning his next steps. "One day."

* * *

><p>Danny stormed out of the plush Poulter Heights neighborhood on the outskirts of Amity park, heart pounding in the deepest fear. Some part of him wondered if perhaps he'd still been mistaken. Maybe Vlad had been right. Maybe the newspaper was wrong.<p>

Maybe Sam really was dead, and this was all just some new simulation…

"No," he breathed, the land blurring past him. "No. This is real." His tears had dried from the wind, but a new wave overwhelmed him. Tears blurred his eyes again. "She's still alive."

The limits of Amity Park gave way to its suburbs and city housing. On the telephone poles at every intersection were paper signs with his senior high school picture and the words, _Have You Seen Me? _The constant reminder of his own face everywhere told him that Vlad had been lying. That this was all real. That Danny Fenton was truly missing. Amity Park didn't look much different beyond the constant, perpetual page after page of _Have You Seen Me? Have You Seen Me? _

His heart swelled in pain. Someone had stapled and taped each one to the poles and building bulletins and business windows. Whether it was his family or his friends, people cared for him. They were looking for him. And judging by the number of signs, they were desperate to get him back.

Something about being a missing person triggered false memories from Vlad's simulation, and that sent shivers down his spine. He'd been considering a missing person there too.

As he flew, he instinctively stormed down the streets to the old Manson home, which was carefully tucked away between other large city flats and ritzy mansions. He flew down to it, tentatively pressing himself against one of the outer walls of the home.

The garage door was open, and the Manson's luxury car was gone. Danny's eyebrows furrowed. Someone had to still be there, if the door was open.

Then he saw a small body set down a box at the edge of the garage's opening. A flicker of white skin, black hair.

He knew that body anywhere.

His heart stalled, and he ducked behind the building wall, turning invisible. His eyes were wide and frightened. He nearly crumbled the bricks beneath his fingertips. Sam. He just saw _Sam._

And she wasn't dead. Or about to be dead on a train. She was alive.

She was in ragged, baggy clothes, carrying another old cardboard box out of the garage. Her hair was in some disarrayed ponytail. She wore no makeup, and she looked worn and gaunt. Skeletal.

But it was Sam. An alive Sam.

His heart nearly gave out in his chest as his agony and joy hitched his breath. "Sam," he cried out softly, solidifying back onto the visible plane. He wasn't sure if he were actually speaking. Maybe none of this was real. He tried to call out again, pulling away from the wall to reveal himself.

The woman paused at the sound of her name, her skin goose-bumping from the familiar drop of temperature in the air—that _voice_. She turned around, face haunted. Then her eyes landed on him as one disheveled and gaunt Danny Phantom materialized a short distance away.

Her arms shook, and she grew weak, her purple eyes widening. "…Danny?" she dared to whisper.

But the ghost before her did not disappear. Instead, he remained before her, just as stricken by her as she was of him.

Her fingers slipped from the cardboard box she was holding, and the box dropped to the concrete with a hard crash, jostling papers. She could not look away from him.

The boy paused in sudden fear that perhaps this was just a simulation too—that Sam really was dead, and Vlad was just jacking him around, laughing in some control center.

_Please be real—don't be fake—She has to be real—_

But then Sam stumbled beyond the fallen box, her hands shaking. "Oh my God," she whispered, staring at him as if he were a dream. "Danny. Oh my God."

Now only a few steps separated them.

She reached out to touch his face with trembling fingers. He inhaled shakily at her touch.

Neither could speak. Words failed them both.

_ Please be real—please be real—please be real—_

He gently touched her hand and ran his fingers down her arm, feeling her warmth. Her skin was smooth, the fine hairs on her arms soft. He could feel the blood pumping through her.

Despite the reality before him, he could still remember raising her broken and charred body from the debris of the train. He could remember the ugliness of her—how his entire world had stopped. How, in the simulation, he had wailed at the sight and cradled her remains.

Unashamed tears burned his eyes as he held onto her arm tighter to prove she really did exist. "Sam," he breathed, voice hitching. "Sam."

Impulse overcame them. Before he knew it, they were grabbing for each other, digging their fingers into the other to press closer.

Sam burrowed into him, her skeletal arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. "Danny," she cried. She seemed almost witless, as if unable to reconcile her memories with the reality of the physical body before her. She hid her face in his chest, her breath hitched. "You're here. You're okay."

He held onto her waist tight, his free hand cupping the back of her neck to stroke her skin. He hid his face in her hair as the last of his pride broke down into pure, wordless relief. _Not dead. _

He held onto her tight, crying as he breathed in her scent and the hot warmth of her living—oh, God, she was _living_—body.

Papers that floated in the wind from the collapsed cardboard box were new styles of a missing-person poster, with his high school picture still smiling back at him. _Have You Seen Me?_

_Have You Seen Me? _

_Have You Seen Me?_

Sam pulled away to stroke his face, her thin fingers catching his cold tears. "You're here," she whispered shakily. "You're really here."

He leaned into her touch, green eyes bloodshot with emotion. "Am I?" he asked desperately. "I want this to be real." He nuzzled her hand, pressed his lips against her palm. Then his lips pulled back in a sob at the softness of her skin. "Please be real." His hands tightened on her waist. He could feel her ribs, sharp against his fingers through the material her baggy shirt.

The Sam in Vlad's simulation had been unchanged and healthy. Every time.

This Sam was but a slip of a woman, hardly above a skeleton. His fears that perhaps she wasn't real began to die away.

She seemed to understand his questioning fingers upon her waist. "I couldn't—" she tried to speak, but her voice hitched up with a sob. She wanted to say she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything without him. She couldn't live. "Without you. I couldn't."

Danny set his forehead against hers, feeling her arms wind about his neck. He ached at how diminished Sam had become in his absence, but he didn't know what to say. _I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that. It wasn't my fault._

His tears slipped down his face again. "Sam. I never—I can't…." His breath hitched. "I need you."

They'd spent so many years hiding the truth from others and from themselves—now, it seemed like a waste. Sam's quivering lips raised into a shaking smile, and she whispered, "I need you too."

Because at some core, they knew this wasn't just love. The word was too flimsy for whatever they had.

And so he kissed her as he had multiple times in the simulation, pressing against her lips with a desperation to feel her soul through her skin. She kissed him back fervently, her arms tightening around his neck and pulling him closer. It was the most intimate they had ever acted with each other in real life. They had come close and touched in questionable ways, but never like this.

And so something about it felt sacred.

_ This is real—this is home—I need you—I need you. _

_ I've got you. _

_ You're alive, and I've got you—_

They could not separate from each other for a long time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Still a few more chapters to come and several loose ends to tie. _

_Let me know your thoughts! _


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